


Strike A Pose (Vogue, Vogue, Vogue)

by Biromantic_Nerd



Series: Strike A Pose: Series [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, And Has A Hard Time Saying 'No', Basically: TASM canon - not TASM2 canon, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Harry's Gonna Try & Change That, He Ends Up Enjoying Modeling, Model Peter, No Romance, Non-binary character, Peter Is Too Nice, Peter Models Not Catwalks, Peter is still Spiderman!, Talking About Gender, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6117628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biromantic_Nerd/pseuds/Biromantic_Nerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter - somehow, he's still not quite sure exactly how - becomes a haute-couture model. And a very successful one at that. </p><p>Enter fashion editorialist and designer Harry Osborn, who tries to convince Peter to debut in his next runway show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Don't Just Stand There"

**Author's Note:**

> The story and chapter titles are lyrics from Madonna's "Vogue"
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, someone takes off someone else's clothing (shirt) without their permission. 
> 
> They do so in a non-sexual manner for a non-sexual purpose. But, I thought I should just put that as a warning for anyone who might need it.

Peter was trying to figure out where on Earth he was supposed to go. He was on assignment from Jameson to cover the fashion section in the newspaper for a story coming up about something or an other. Peter wasn't entirely sure. He just knew that Regina - the person who usually took the photos for any Lifestyle, Image, or Style articles - couldn't make it because Regina's wife had finally had given birth, and now Regina was on maternity leave. So it was up to Peter. 

And Peter was currently lost in a building that seemed to be made up of endless hallways.

"You there! With the camera! What size is your waist?"

"Wha- what?" Peter stumbled back in shock from the sharp tone suddenly directed at him. 

"Yes, yes, you'll do." They carried on, heedless that Peter hadn't responded. And suddenly, Peter's wrist was grabbed and yanked along after the person who had approached him.

"Uhhh, can you, maybe explain what's happening here?" Peter hedged, uncomfortable with the way his day was panning out. Being lost, shouted at, and then bodily grabbed would do that to a person. 

"No time. We needed a model practically yesterday. And Johnny, well." They snorted. "He didn't fit at ALL. And it's not like we have bigger sizes with one-of-a-kind garments!" 

They turned a sharp corner down the hallway, which could, potentially, explain Peter's yelp. 

It really was more the surprise than anything else, though. 

"Model?!"

Peter was none-too-kindly pushed into a room. He tripped over the doorway and pinwheeled his arms to maintain his balance. 

"This is what you bring me?" A voice groaned. "This is no model; this is an amateur!"

Peter would have been more offended, but he wasn't, in fact, a model. So the person was kind of right. Still, the harsh critique made him feel self conscious a bit.

Peter nervously chewed on his lip, turning his head away with lowered eyes. His fingers anxiously played with his camera strap that was hanging around his neck. 

"Oh. Maybe - maybe he will do." 

His head swiftly turned back to look at the room at the comment, eyes wide. 

There was a someone eyeing him speculatively, as if Peter was a painting that they weren't sure where they wanted to hang it on the wall just yet. 

"Send him to get ready. Have makeup give him nice, natural makeup - except I want the eyes outlined in gold foil graphic eyeshadow, eyeliner - whatever. And," Their tilted their head as they continuing eyeing Peter. "Sheer lip colors. Either a warm red or red plum. But sheer, and I mean sheer! Not lipgloss, just a really sheer matte. Have him dressed in what Johnny-" The photographer sneered "-was going to wear. Then send him back."

They had turned away finally to adjust their camera stand, and Peter sighed in relief. 

"What about hair?" The person next to Peter demanded, as they latched on to his wrist once more. 

The photographer waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Leave it mostly like that, and I'll take it from there."

\----------------------------------------------

Peter wasn't quite sure what was happening. Suddenly he was swarmed by people. Some of them introduced themselves, but most of them didn't.

It seemed, also, that the majority of those that did introduce themselves were interns of some kind.

"Can I get you any sparkling water or coffee?" Intern 14 asked. 

Intern 15 snorted disdainfully. "And mess up his lipstick?" 

Which. Was a thing. Peter had never worn makeup before. And now a stranger was grabbing his chin and maneuvering his face in order to apply it to their satisfaction. 

"Don't blink." They warned. 

Yeah, easy for them to say. Their eyes weren't being roughly attacked by brushes. 

Peter wasn't even sure where his glasses were anymore. An intern probably had them, he figured. He hoped. 

Someone - probably an intern - began to unbutton Peter's shirt. 

"Um! That's! What?" He managed to vaguely form words to resemble a protest.

"We need to get you into wardrobe." They explained nonchalantly. 

"I can get dressed all by myself!" He protested. 

"Oh, honey, I don't think you can." They sounded amused. And the intern gestured to something Peter hadn't noticed behind all the hustle and bustle of people. 

On a clothes hanger was, was-

"What is THAT?"

"THAT is what you're going to need help with." The (maybe) intern took advantage of his shock and carried on unbuttoning his shirt, now that Peter was frozen in disbelief. Peter numbly allowed his arms to be slid out of his sleeves. 

"But what IS it?" 

"It's fashion, darling."

They reached for Peter's belt, and he snapped back into focus. 

"I can do that!" He squeaked. 

"You're going to need help getting dressed."

"Yes, okay, you were right, but I can UNdress myself just fine, thanks."

None of the people that were adjusting Peter's makeup, or subtlety adjusting his hair, or folding his discarded shirt felt the need to turn around. 

Peter's face burned red. 

He handed his belt to someone's waiting hands. He took a deep breath. And then he took off his jeans. 

"The shy models are always the cutest." He could have sworn he heard someone say. 

Peter's blush extended from his chest to the back of his ears, and everyone could see it. 

"Here. Give me your left leg." Peter obliged. Something almost like blue satin ribbon that had shorts attached at the top was pulled around his foot, calf, and thigh. "Right leg." The process of wrapping around and around was repeated. But then he had to lift from the seat a little as the intern hiked the shorts up over his thighs and to where they would actually cover something. 

"Left arm." His arms were ribboned with a red velvety ribbon this time. Then they were secured in a looping knot under hid armpit and around each finger. "Right arm." Red velvety ribbon again. It was, he thought a bit hysterically, the Spiderman colors of blue and red. 

"Now: Hold. Still." From the loops under his armpits, they started weaving both ribbons horizontally across his torso. When it was deemed finished, it was secured by connecting to the belt loop on the back of his shorts. 

"What am I even modeling?" Peter questioned incredulously as everyone seemed to take a collective step back and just stare at him. 

"This." A softly knit red and blue plaid scarf was wrapped around his neck. It reached the floor when Peter stood up. 

"You're all ready." They decided. 

"Go knock 'em dead!" Someone cheered. Peter thought it might have been Intern 14.

\------------------------------------------------

It had went like this:

The photographer, after introducing himself, placed Peter in a brightly lit corridor, and told him to go. 

Peter had just stood there, not sure what to do. 

Frustrated, the photographer had yelled, "What are you good at? Show me what you're good at!" 

And Peter, well, Peter was good at science and photography and at being Spiderman. 

So. 

So, he might have cheated juuust a bit by using some of his Spidey powers, but. Oh well. 

And he knew about which way to face the lighting to look the best in a photo, about filling negative space, about interesting composures, and about other aspects of photography. 

So if he had bent this way or that, it would make the photographer exclaim in joy. And he'd send in an intern to adjust his scarf or ribbons while yelling, "Hold that pose! Don't you DARE move!" And Peter, well, Peter could have held a single pose for a lot longer than anyone knew, thanks to his powers. But when Peter had started experimenting a bit, trying to be as visually interesting as he could be, the photographer had eagerly shouted, "That's it! That's IT!" 

So Peter had figured he couldn't have been too terrible then. 

Especially when, at the end of the photo shoot, as Peter was drinking sparkling water, someone in an expensive suit had approached him. 

And offered him a lot of money for today and a whole lot more if he continued.

\------------------------------------------------

"Whaddya mean that you didn't take the photos yourself?! What the hell am I even payin' you for then? What were you even doing - twiddling your thumbs? Did you even bother to show up at all?"

Peter didn't bother to point out that he was contractually paid per photo accepted and not through a salary; so, technically, he wasn't being paid at all right now. It wouldn't have made a difference to Jameson. 

"Um, I did show up." He interjected cautiously before this could become a real Jonah rant. 

"Go on, I'm dyin' to hear your excuse this time!" He barked. 

"They decided to that they'd rather have me model instead of being their photographer."

Jameson laughed before he suddenly stopped. "You're not joking!"

"Uh, no?"

"You? A model?" He asked in disbelief. It seemed that that was going to be everyone's reaction. Jameson visibly mulled it over. "Who took the photos, then?" 

"I don't know - they had some photographer they already had for the shoot give me some that you could use. He said his name was Brock?"

"Eddie Brock?!" Jameson choked out, his cigar trembling. 

"Yeah!" 

"Parker, Eddie Brock is a high-end photographer, exclusive for that one fashion magazine of willowy models in expensive clothing."

Peter felt like that described ALL fashion magazines. 

"Kid," Jameson sounded impressed. "Give me the photos and get out of here before the modeling agencies come knocking on my door lookin' for you." 

"Um." Peter felt like now was a prudent time to awkwardly admit this, "I've already signed with an agency. I probably won't be back at The Bugle anymore." 

Jonah J. Jameson froze. "Huh." He said gruffly. "Well. Good luck, I guess. I mean - you'll probably be a decent model, Parker, since you're a twig and all." 

Unsure if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult, Peter just nodded in reply. 

He gave a short wave, and left his office. 

Well, that could have gone worse, he decided. 

The next morning, Peter's mailbox had a paycheck from The Daily Bugle in it, with no stamp on the envelope. So someone had taken the time to hand deliver the package to Peter's address instead of just sending it through the mail. And Triple J acted like he didn't care! Peter's also had been given a copy of the day's paper. 

He blinked. And blinked again. 

In black and white, right on the very front page, it still read: 

"Photographer Gets Photographed!"

Below the headlines, it had a smaller print that was still larger than the rest of the article that read:

"Bugle's Own Peter Parker Debuts As Vogue Model!" 

Of all the photos that Peter had given to Jameson, they had just selected one and blown it up across nearly the entire page. It was his face, looking serene as he stared over his shoulder with eyes outlined in a brilliant liquid gold, his ribboned arm dangling mid air. His body hung high in a contorted arc between the hallways artfully, supported only by one ribboned leg and both shoulders holding his weight; the rest of him dangled gracefully down - making him look impossibly tall and elegant. Some of his fingertips grazed the floor. The ribboned leg that wasn't braced against the wall extended down in a long curve and filled some of the leftover negative space with an interesting shape. 

The knitted scarf - the whole point of the editorial - was wrapped loosely a few times around his extended neck. It trailed over and behind the right shoulder farthest from the camera, pooling in an attractive heap across the floor's surface. It also danced over his hipbones, wrapping a couple times around his elevated left thigh, before it trailed down his calf to his ankle, where the end of it balanced delicately.

He looked - he looked -

Like a model. 

Peter couldn't believe it. Was that really him? Even in a newspaper quality, the photo looked good. He looked like a professional. Peter had the urge to buy whatever magazine it was featured in and see it on a glossy page. He stared for a long time before a sudden thought made him tear his eyes away. He read what The Bugle had written. And then he read the sub-headline again in astounded disbelief. 

"Vogue?!"

\------------------------------------------------

Peter briefly wondered whether he should go tell his aunt. 

Right after a couple rounds of lip-syncing "Uptown Funk" he decided. 

And if his aunt discovered him hours later standing on his bed, passionately singing along with wild gesticulations, well, she forgave him. 

Because Peter was so hot - hot damn! - that he had modeled for Vogue. 

With his hefty check, he would take her out to dinner and would leave a generous tip for the waitstaff. 

Yeah, Peter thought as his aunt excitedly swapped stories with the renowned chef who had cooked their food, Peter could get used to this. Aunt May beamed at him, and Peter smiled back widely. 

If he kept on modeling, not only could she stop working so many shifts - she would be able to quit her job if she wanted to. Aunt May deserved that and more.

Peter would give it to her. 

On their way home, Aunt May insisted that they stopped at a bookstore. She bought ten copies of the - surprisingly pricey -magazine that featured her boy, despite Peter's offer to buy then for her. 

When he asked why she needed ten, she replied, "The first one's going in the photo box. The second one's staying on our coffee table. The third one is going in my bank account, as precious goods. The fourth one is going to go in your room. The fifth one is going in my room. The sixth one, I'll take to work and show off. The seventh and eighth, you'll sign and I'll keep for when you're famous. The ninth one, you can give away to someone. The last one, well, you and I will give that one to Ben together." 

Peter hugged his aunt, taking her by surprise. "Thank you, Aunt May."

"You're welcome, Peter. I'm so proud of you, you know? I always have been." 

"Yeah," Peter breathed with an easy smile. "I knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't stop picturing Peter as some how, some way involved in the fashion industry.
> 
> But since there are only two results when the both filters "Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models" and "Peter Parker" are applied, I feel this fandom desperately needs more. ;)
> 
> Also, all singular "they"s for minor characters are intentional, as Peter is trying not to assume people's gender at a glance in this fic. Notice Eddie Brock's gender shift from "they" to "he" after he is said to have introduced himself.


	2. "Ladies With An Attitude"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's big news and a hot topic, his agent says. 
> 
> That's why he and Mary Jane get interviewed by Ellen. The Ellen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am using Ellen just because she's a famous and recognizable talk show host. Obviously, I don't own any rights to her show. Nor do I intend to say that any of my fiction is a reflection upon her or her character. None of this is real. 
> 
> I know that Ellen, in reality, isn't a live broadcasting show and is edited first. But it is live in this story. 
> 
> \----------------
> 
> This chapter is kind of a time skip. Peter's become famous and in high demand as a model very quickly.
> 
> \----------------

Peter didn't really see the point in starting the interview by himself and then about two questions into it acting like, "Oh hey, should I ask MJ to join us? Because she's heeeere with me!" 

And yet, apparently that's what makes good television interviews. 

The audience went a bit nuts at seeing famous model and sometimes actress Mary Jane Watson plop herself gracefully down on the couch next to him. 

Ellen and Mary Jane introduced themselves and MJ casually remarked that it was "sensational" to be on the show. As if they hadn't met during rehearsals or as if this wasn't her fourth time being interviewed by Ellen. Peter really didn't understand show business.

"So you've become something of a huge sensation yourself, Peter." Ellen segued. 

"Yeah, I guess I have." Peter awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

"Tell us about it. How did you start as a model?" The talk show host prompted further. 

"Um, all I knew at the time was the location of the place, not who they were or anything, since it was kind of a last minute fill in photography job for someone else who worked at the same paper that I did. And when I got there, after seeing how skinny I was, the magazine naturally told me to model." He made a baffled face, and Ellen laughed. "Um, from what I had understood at the time, the person they had booked wasn't small enough to fit in their designated outfit. I guess - and this only later that I found this out - Vogue had originally booked Johnny Storm to do the editorial spread that I did." 

Peter gave the audience a wide-eyed look. There was an impressed murmur amongst them. "Johnny Storm! No wonder he didn't fit! He's so muscular, and I'm like, a string bean, right? How do you squeeze someone that's as super buff as him into a teeny outfit like that? You don't. So I did the photo shoot, and then at the end of the day, for some reason, they told me they wanted me to do more." 

Peter made another confused face. "I didn't really understand why. I mean, I signed a contract because they paid me lots of money - " The audience laughed loudly. MJ snorted at his lack of tact while Ellen chuckled. " - but I didn't really understand until I saw the pictures. And then, I was like, 'You know, I could actually be a model.' So here we are." 

"That was great, that was a great retelling." MJ muttered gleefully. Of course, her microphone picked it up. 

"Wasn't it?" Ellen agreed in amusement. "And now, Peter, your career has really just taken off! Nowadays you're even working with stars like Mary Jane Watson over here! Tell me what that's like."

"Um, she's super cool to work with. MJ's a nice person, really funny, and - of course - a great model." He answered, smiling at both of them. 

"Well, you, tiger, are an absolute delight!" She punched his arm amiably, grinning. 

"Can we go back to what you just said there, Peter? You called Mary Jane "MJ" - I've never heard anyone call her that before; is that a nickname? Care to explain?" 

"Oh, um, sure. Mary Jane takes so long to say, you know? It's like 'Mary Jane, do you have any food in your purse that I can have? I woke up late and am starving!' or 'Mary Jane, your elbow is crushing my ribs!' In both scenarios, time is of the essence." The audience laughed, causing Peter to pause. "What? It's true! She's got extremely bony, sharp elbows! Okay, no, but, in reality - I'm just really lazy and impatient. So." He trailed off with a shrug. 

"So MJ is just quicker." Ellen concluded in amusement. 

"Exactly!" He nodded. 

"So, Peter Parker, then would your nickname be 'PP'?" The audience began laughing again at her joke. Peter groaned and looked towards Mary Jane for help, but MJ was laughing too. 

"Ugh, no way." 

"In all seriousness though," Ellen said. "I've got to ask you an important question. Everyone is wondering. ARE you going to be walking the catwalk anytime soon? People want to know!" 

"You know," He shuffled uncomfortably, crossing his leg over his knee. "I don't think so, no." 

The audience let out a disappointed "Awwww." Mary Jane even gave a faux wobbly lip. 

"How can you say no that face!?" Ellen demanded, gesturing. 

"Reaaally easily, actually." Peter laughed. "But, um, I just think that the runway's not for me."

"Originally though, you didn't even think modeling was for you. And yet here you are." MJ interjected. The audience clapped, clearly agreeing with her point. 

"I mean, that's true, but just - trust me on this. The runway is not ready for my amount of awkward. I'm really clumsy. It's just not happening!" He cried over the audience's playful boos that had erupted. 

"Alright, alright, we'll leave you alone. Mary Jane - may I call you MJ or that reserved for Peter's usage only?" "No, please, go ahead!" "MJ, can you tell us your perspective on - well, just tell us about this photo that has a lot of people talking." 

She gestured to the huge screen that was behind where they were all sitting. Peter could feel himself blushing. The giant screen enlarged one of Peter's more embarrassing photos. The photo looked really cool, but, wellllll... 

"So the idea is - the story behind this - is that I'm a goddess that has come down from the heavens. I look very goddess-y, right, with my makeup and my outfit? And Peter is my mortal lover, who has been sadly murdered by another god or goddess out of spite. So I'm holding his corpse in my arms." 

"But why - why is he naked?" 

"I mean," MJ half-heartedly protested, "He's not entirely naked. He's got, like, an itty bit of fabric covering him." 

"But why?" Ellen pressed, sounding baffled. "Why is he essentially very, very naked?" 

Mary Jane laughed. "Maybe I had just had my wicked way with him before he died? I don't know!" She defended herself as the audience laughed. "It's just supposed to be artistic, I suppose." 

"Peter, what are your thoughts? Anything you'd like to, hmm, reveal to us?" 

The crowd tittered in response at the wording. 

"Ah, no, definitely there will be no revealing today. Sorry to disappoint you!" He shot the audibly upset crowd a scornful look before continuing. "But, um, my personal interpretation was that I was naked because she had cleansed me. Like, in preparation of burial or something. Because it's like ancient times, and they had covered me with like oil or something on set. So I had just assumed that this was Goddess MJ, not at first discovery of her dead lover, but instead it was a picture of her saying her final goodbye, with him - me - cradled in her arms. Which! Either proves how MJ is seriously strong or that I'm exceptionally light." 

"Or both." Ellen offered with an easy shrug. 

"But you saying that, I can see this picture in a whole new light." MJ stated, impressed. "Like, I was there for it - I'm IN the photo - but now it looks like a real story to me that makes actual sense, instead of just a photo of me lifting up my naked friend." 

Everyone burst out laughing. 

"It's not like I didn't have underwear on! I did! You just can't see them under the fabric. I'm not naked, technically." Peter explained. 

"This has been so much fun, but we actually have to start wrapping this up now. I hate to admit that we're running out of time."

"No, already?" MJ asked in dismayed surprise. Peter thought it was genuine, but right now MJ was an accomplished actress on live television; he wasn't entirely sure. 

"Thank you two for coming on the show today. Together. Almost like a couple." Ellen hedged, with a jeering raise of her eyebrows towards her audience.

Peter just shook his head. He was not about to stick his foot in his mouth and make the situation worse, on national television. 

"No, Peter and I are only friends. We did have that sleepover - like everyone is saying and how the rumor started - but all we did was marathon Studio Ghibli movies while wearing DIY face masks! I have pictures!" Mary Jane held out her phone. 

"Don't you dare!" Peter leapt for it, but Mary Jane stood up and held the phone above her head; she was also wearing heels and therefore was a cheater. 

"I have to see these pictures now." Ellen said, intrigued. 

"Peter's just embarrassed because my pj's are cuter than his." MJ teased. Peter stuck out his tongue but sat down in defeat. 

"Oh my God, is he wearing a Pikachu onesie?" Ellen asked in pure delight. 

There was laughter from the audience. Peter covered his pink face with his hands. 

"With little feet on them!" Mary Jane confirmed. "Obviously, you can see I'm always modeling, even in my own home while wearing my Harry Potter pajamas."

The crowd cheered loudly. 

Mary Jane shot Peter a smug look at thr more enthusiastic their reaction for her. Or maybe their reaction for Harry Potter. MJ probably didn't care so as long as they were cheering more than they had earlier for Peter; she was competitive like that. 

"I don't know; I think you two look equally cute." Ellen debated. 

"Thank you!" Peter said, pointedly looking at MJ before speaking further. "Mine were a birthday gift!" 

"Can we work on getting this on the big screen back there so our audience can see? If we have enough time left? Thank you. Now, what are your face masks made of - because that's not the typical avocado. It looks orange." 

"We smashed up some apricots and nectarines with some honey." Mary Janes admitted. "It was a first attempt at that recipe, but it made our skin glow the next day. It smelled delicious too!" 

"Oh- oh, there you are." Ellen observed, as if Peter could miss the way he and MJ were suddenly massive on the screen. 

The crowd cheered, whistling. 

"Right?" Ellen asked in agreement. "They both look adorable. I would buy that face mask. And I don't even use face mask. That's how adorable you two look." 

"Well, thank you." MJ responded. 

Peter graciously said, "At least my aunt knows that I liked my birthday gift." 

"The footie pajamas." Ellen verified. 

"The footie pajamas."

"Well, thank you, again, for coming today. Ladies and gentlemen - models Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson!" Ellen cried excitedly. 

The audience cheered. 

"People of non-binary genders, Peter and MJ!" Peter mimicked eagerly just in time before the show ended and credits started rolling.

Ellen blinked at him in astonishment. MJ rolled her eyes, way too acclimated to Peter by now. 

\----------------------------------------------

Later that day, Peter choked on the bite of dinner he was eating as he read an incoming text message. 

"Hey so I got your number from MJ. Lol I can't believe you practically wrote sonnets about my muscles on live television. We should hang out sometime. Watch a movie. Get dinner. Chill or something. Get back to me :) 

\- Johnny" 

He couldn't believe this. Johnny Storm. First famously known as a supermodel, then a superhero. It was like Peter's story but in reverse! Well, not exactly, because no one knew that he was Spiderman except for Gwen. 

But supermodel and superhero Johnny Storm! Texting Peter. Just out of the blue. Peter, who also happened to be Spiderman. Spiderman, who happened to be in California at the moment and leaving all the crime-fighting action to The Human Torch to deal with. (Along with the rest of the Fantastic Four.) 

Maybe it was the shock talking, Peter thought to himself in a moment of melodramatic dismay, but he wasn't sure if this was a good thing that was happening or not.

He pulled up a certain traitorous redhead's contact and hit dial. 

"MJ, did you give away my cell phone number to Johnny Storm?" He hissed angrily the moment she answered. 

"Um, you're welcome? Sound a little more grateful there, Peter. Geez." 

He took a deep breath. "Mary Jane. What were his exact words when he asked for my number?" 

"I don't know! Why? Here, I'll forward you the text." 

"Ummm..." He couldn't exactly say that he was a teeny bit suspicious of Johnny's motives. He blurted out the first anxiety that struck him. "Because I'm not sure if he's flirting or if he's just being a bro. He used the word 'chill.'" 

It was, actually now that Peter had thought of it, something that he was starting to worry about. 

"You use the word 'chill!' Honestly, you're overthinking this and panicking. Stop it."

"But what if we hang out, doing fine in the friend zone, and then suddenly I'm pulled into - into the romance zone?"

MJ snorted. "Yeah. I'm hanging up now. I'll talk to you when you're not Mabel Pines."

"No, wait, I still - " The line clicked. " - need you." A thought that occurred to him made him uselessly shout out, "You understood the reference!" 

His phone buzzed. The forwarded text read:

"FWD: So I need you to send me your model friend's phone number. I know you have it. Give me his digits, and I'll buy you a car or something else that's cheap. But don't give it to me unless you're willing to become his second best BFF ;) I win at everything." 

He sighed in relief. Oh. Okay then, that cleared that up. Johnny wanted to be his friend, and he was apparently serious about being his friend. Very serious. Peter was in way more over his head than he had thought if he was going to be friends with a guy who thought cars were cheap. CARS. Peter didn't know how he felt about that. 

He bit his lip, debating on how to answer. He had never really had many guy friends in the past. Oddly because most guys wanted to toss him in a locker. So Peter decided to reply to Johnny's message as if it were any other friend Peter had, who were girls. So like he'd talk to Gwen or MJ. 

Playful teasing with his sharp, witty intelligence out to be fine. Also, sprinkle in some natural dorky charm that Peter couldn't help.

"Well, maybe your muscles deserve sonnets okay? You're in luck. I love movies, I love to eat dinner, and I love to chill. What do you have in mind? Because I refuse to watch gore and/or musicals."

The reply made Peter smile. 

"Dang it! There goes my plan! If you came over for dinner, my brother-in-law Reed's cooking is enough gore to scare you off for good. And my sister Sue sings. Which is also classifiable as gore. And technically a musical but mostly gore ;) Yeah my muscles deserve sonnets. Because mine are more 'shall I compare thee to a summer's day' and all that. What about yours?" 

It was an unexpected response but easy to banter with. 

"Well, if your place is too gorey, then maybe YOU should come over instead. Just don't look at my dirty dishes, and we're gore-free. Also, my puny muscles only accept limericks."

The next response didn't come immediately like before. But then he saw the length and noticed why. 

"LOL! Was not expecting that! Give me a couple days to come up with one! But also give me your address because that sounds great. Let me know when I should come over. I'll bring takeout. Would you prefer option 1. deep dish pizza and Chinese or option 2. Korean bbq and Greek?"

A moment later another message came. 

"Also for the limerick, can I have your preferred pronouns? Need to know if I should find rhymes for either 'person' or 'man' when referencing you. I could use 'model' but that's hard to rhyme with, you know?"

Yeah, Peter thought with smile. He could handle this friendship thing.

Speaking of... 

"Hey Pacifica what type of car is Johnny buying you?" He sent to MJ with a smirk. 

In reply, all she sent him was the hair flip emoji. Really? 

Peter needed normal friends. 

His phone buzzed again. 

MJ had written, "You should totally be Dipper Pines for Halloween though. It'd be adorable." 

That .... wasn't a half bad idea, actually. 

He wondered if he could talk her into also dressing up with him. Halloween was far away. He had plenty of time.

\-----------------------------------------------

"Heyyy, Aunt May." Peter greeted his computer with a smile, waving. 

Her pixelated image frowned back at him. "Have you been eating? It looks like you've lost weight! Don't tell me that they have you on some dangerous diet?" She worried, distressed. 

"I'm fine, Aunt May." He said, embarrassed. His cheeks were a little sharper than he was used to, but he hadn't thought she'd be able to tell. It was just contouring though. He was still wearing the makeup that was put on him from earlier on in the day. Most days, he absentmindedly forgot about it until it came off in the shower in colorful streaks. 

"If you sure." She dropped the subject reluctantly. "When are you coming home? It's soon, right? Let me know, and I'll have all your favorites prepared for you. We'll have a welcome home party, you and I." 

"Aunt May, no, you don't need to do that. I've only been out here in Hollywood for two weeks, not two years. And my flight's for tomorrow, yeah. It'll be good to be home. I've missed you. Skype just isn't the same." 

"You're telling me!" She laughed. "How am I supposed to hug you through the computer? Or feed you?"

"I promise that I AM eating! Really." Peter swore seriously. 

"But when you're home, I can know that for sure. Next time you go out of the state, I'm coming with you!" Clearly, she did not believe him. 

"Yeah. That's sounds really good." He replied wistfully. "Buuuut, when I'm out here, I don't have to eat your meatloaf!" He responded cheekily after. 

"The nerve!" She cried. "I made that meatloaf for over twenty five years! Did anyone speak up about it? No! You both deserved to eat it, if you hated it that much and just let me continue making it again and again." 

Peter laughed. 

Aunt May's face visibly softened at the sound, as if she had waiting for it as an indiction that he was truly okay. "I love you, Peter. I'm so glad you're coming home."

"Me too, Aunt May. There is no place like home, believe me. I've missed you so much that it's nuts. Seeing you in person instead of over the internet is going to be like - like Christmas or something. I'm that excited."

The screen froze, Aunt May's mouth open as if to say something. Peter waited. Then he sighed, as it still had loading errors with the connection. 

"If you can hear me, I love you Aunt May. See ya soon!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided that this story WILL be GEN. I'm still trying to figure out how why the tags won't change, but I'm not planning any romance for this story after all. Sorry, if that's your cup of tea. 
> 
> And a wild Johnny Storm appeared. Honestly, I'm not sure how that happened? I'm going to roll with it. 
> 
> Mabel and Dipper Pines, along with Pacifica, are characters from the show Gravity Falls. The phrase "romance zone" is used in the show to essentially describe unwanted romance towards someone from someone else who won't accept no as an answer.


	3. "[People] That Were In The Mood"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt May smothers Peter with affection and food. 
> 
> And then Johnny Storm happens. 
> 
> Peter doesn't really mind any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me unexpected amounts of trouble. But here it is, at last!

The sight of Aunt May again was the best thing that Peter could imagine.

"Welcome home, Peter." Her voice was as warm as her arms, and Peter basked in the embrace. 

 

Aunt May smiled at him. 

It was so good to be _home._

 

\------------------------------------------------

"Gohh my gobshh." Peter moaned around a mouthful of food. Spaghetti sauce dripped down his chin. 

Aunt May gently swatted at his shoulder. "Where have your manners gone?" She scolded, her smile never leaving her face. She was so terribly glad that he was _home._

Peter grinned up at her, intentionally having his both cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. She laughed. "Ishh shooo goo'" Peter struggled to say, trying not to laugh as well. 

"Peter, honestly!" She shook her head. "How old are you?" 

He smiled at her, and she sighed lightly, smiling as well. He ducked his head down, and resumed his meal with the nice, polite manners that she and Ben had taught him. He talked animatedly between mouthfuls, his fave lighting up as he described scenes for her in vivid detail, trying to paint a picture of what exactly he had been experiencing all the way on the West Coast. She watched him patiently, and she listened attentively, and she responded to merry outbursts. His cheeks were flushed pink in excitement, his eyes bright, and he looked so comfortable at their table, finally! instead of over an internet connections. Her boy was home. Two weeks across the country from each other had seemed like ages, but here he was. At last, her precious Peter was _home._

 

\----------------------------------------------

"Hey. Um, so, here's - I've been good." Peter smiled awkwardly, shuffling in the cold air. "Just went out to _Hollywood_ in _California_ so that's why I haven't been by lately. Don't worry - I won't get a big head just because I'm famous or anything."

He stood there, collecting his thoughts, and then continued speaking. "I've brought you a couple more magazines. Aunt May thinks - well, anyways. I guess I'm just glad they let us leave this bookshelf here. It's small, but I wasn't sure if they would. It's amazing, though, what being famous allows people to do. So you've got a- quite the collection going. It's, uh, kind of nice." 

Peter gave a small smile. "Yeah," He said softly, his breath misting in the cold air. "It's nice."

He bent over and gently placed the new magazines neatly on the small shelf, next to the many others that were already there. 

"There you go, Uncle Ben." Peter whispered as he straightened up. "I've got to get going, but, um, I hope - I hope you can see them. And, uh, that you like them." 

He rubbed at his red, cold nose. "I love you, Uncle Ben. I'll see you soon." 

\----------------------------------------------

"Peter! I'm home with dinner!" Aunt May called up to him. 

Peter came downstairs, stretching as he did so. Today's photo shoot had been a particularly and unusually lengthy one, but the soreness wasn't bad at all. And certainly most of it was from when he had been out patrolling the day before as Spiderman. 

"Ooh, yum." Peter said in awe, snatching a piece of shrimp from the Alfredo sauce. Aunt May knocked his hand away from the take out box, chuckling. "Go get me some plates and forks, please. Thank you." She requested, and Peter easily helped her dish the food from the restaurant take out boxes. They say down for dinner together. 

"Oh." Aunt May smiled, as she looked across at him. "You forgot to go wash up again." 

"Aunt May," Peter began hesitantly. "I didn't. Forget, that is." 

Her face belayed her confusion. "But you have your makeup still on." She hesitated but continued. "Your lips are _bright magenta._ " She said, as if he hadn't realized the vivid shade. 

"I - I know." Peter admitted softly. 

She stared at him in contemplation. "Okay." She breathed, a bit unsure of what he was trying to say but knowing it was something important. He didn't continue; he merely stood there staring at her with wide eyes. "Well, did you remember to wash your hands?" She asked, in her usual warm tone, taking care to not project anything but soothing normalcy. 

Peter's anxious face broke into a happy, alleviated smile. "No - no, I didn't. I'll go do that." He went to leave, but then he suddenly turned around and closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her for a quick moment. "I love you." He muttered into her hair. 

She closed her eyes, relieved that whatever had just occurred - she had obviously done the right thing and had shown Peter that he was always, _always_ welcome. "I love you too, Peter." She kissed his forehead in reassurance. And then swatted him gently, playfully on his arm. "Now go get cleaned up! Dinner's getting cold!" 

Throughout dinner, Peter's beaming, delighted face was the best thing May had ever seen. She took a napkin, licked it, and wiped Peter's cheek where his magenta lipstick had strayed, thanks to his dinner wearing it off. Peter pulled away, protesting, but he couldn't hide the way that he widely grinned as she did it. 

\--------------------------------------------

On the day that he was supposed to meet up with Johnny Storm, Peter had to remind himself to remove his make up before he left the house. He had almost forgotten. Since the brief conversation with Aunt May, he had taken to keeping on his make up after all of his photo shoots. For example, it became normal for him to walk around the house with electric blue cat eyes, luminescent blush, or bright lipstick colors. Some of the make up artists gave him very natural looks, and he preferred those to any thing else, but it seemed Haute Couture often meant wearing wild makeup. 

And that's how Peter almost left the house with actual rhinestones on the (flawlessly concealed) bags under his eyes. Aunt May didn't _laugh_ at him, per say, but Peter could tell that she was a bit amused when he said goodbye - this time very rhinestone-free, thank you very much. 

\-------------------------------------------

The Baxter Building is tall and looming, and it's oddly reminiscent of Oscorp. Peter supposes that all science-y buildings must have that vaguely ominous and sterile feel about them. Inside the actual Fantastic Four apartment level, it's another matter entirely though. It's homey and decorated, and there's picture frames. Peter likes the domesticity. 

"Peter! You're early!" Johnny called out, excited, as he approached. "And you made it up alright." 

"Well," Peter quipped, lip twitching upwards, "I don't know if alright is the word I'd used after your security scanned me twelve times. And then Ben Grimm himself patted me down. Four times." 

Johnny blinked at him. "Seriously? They knew you were coming. I told Sue to - " He paused. "Sue." He muttered, looking wildly embarrassed. "Oh my gosh, I'm going to kill her! My sister's the worst!" He groaned. "I'm sorry." He apologized, without lifting his head from his hands. He sounded completely mortified and very unlike Johnny Storm - who was usually the king of charisma. "They think you're a date. They're trying to scare you away." 

Peter took that in for a moment. 

"Uhhh. What?" He asked because he had a traitorous mouth. He quickly tried to sound like he had some intelligence. "I mean, you're an adult. You can date whoever you want to. _Not_ that this is a date. Because it isn't. A date. Not that people wouldn't want to date you! Because they would. I mean I would, except for the fact that I don't. So I actually _wouldn't,_ but it's the thought that counts - right?"

Johnny's shoulders began shaking. 

Peter gaped. "Did - did I just make you _cry?_ I was trying to help!" 

Johnny lifted his head, but it wasn't his tears that were shaking through him - it was his laughter. "Oh my goshhh." Johnny laughed, throwing his head back. "I thought that _I_ was the awkward one, having my family trying to be intimidating to you. But then _you -_ " Johnny was near hysterical. 

"Uh." 

"Let's start over." Johnny Storm said, flashing his bright white smile. "Have you seen the new season of Dog Cops? Because that's a thing we watch. Or, if you're feeling adventurous, let's put on the sequel to Titanic."

"There isn't a sequel to Titanic." Peter protested. 

Johnny scoffed. "Inception! Inception is the sequel! Or... did the joke do that it was the prequel?" 

Peter didn't have a clue what he was talking about. "Let's watch Dog Cops." He answered instead of following along with his now confused rambling. 

"Great!" Johnny beamed. "I'll make popcorn!" 

Peter snorted as Johnny came back into to room with an Easy-Pop popcorn pan balanced on his palm, heating it up so that it popped from his heat instead of the stove. Johnny smirked at him proudly as it steamed enticingly. 

\----------------------------------------

"No, your left! Your left!" Johnny commented at the television, laughing. 

"Your _other_ left!" Peter continued, laughing with him. Clearly, their voices has no effect on the show, as the main character further continued to go right instead. 

They both groaned as the the totally oblivious character headed in the wrong direction. 

\------------------------------------------

"So," Johnny said very casually. Which, Peter had learned, meant trouble was coming. "Who's your favorite superhero?" 

Peter stared at him for a moment. Johnny - The Human Torch - beamed at him, white teeth sparkling in the light. 

"I'd have to say - Captain America." Peter answered and delighted in the way Johnny's face fell before becoming mildly offended. 

"I'm literally right here!" He yelled, gesturing as if Peter couldn't see him. 

"Oh. Right. In that case - " Peter said, as if just now recalling that Johnny was also a superhero. He preened but then Peter finished "- it has to be Squirrel Girl." 

"Boo!" Johnny hissed playfully, throwing a handful of popcorn at him. "Boo!" 

"Hey!" Peter yelped, as the buttery pieces rained down on him. 

A while later, Johnny huffed and stopped the attack. "Squirrel Girl." He mocked. "At least Captain America was hot." 

"Mm-hmm." Peter acknowledged in agreement. Johnny looked at him for a moment, registering the comment. 

"Obviously, though," He boasted. "I'm the _hottest._ " Peter shoved his foot at Johnny's face, and he yelped, ducking away. 

"Dream on, Flame-brain." Peter teased. "No one's hotter than Captain America. It's just a fact." 

Johnny made to argue but then shrugged. "True." He stole a piece of popcorn that had landed on Peter's shoulder and ate it. 

\-----------------------------------------

"I don't know exactly how to phrase this..." Peter began hesitantly. 

"Just go for. Be super blunt, dude - I've got thick skin." Johnny interrupted. 

Okay then. "Why me? Why did you ask MJ for my number? Why did you want to be MY friend so badly?" 

At first, Johnny's first reaction was to chuckle. "Is that it? Man, I thought you were gong to say something bad, and that's all?" He snickered out before eventually becoming serious once more. 

"Peter, the truth is that I really wanted to be your friend because I admired the way you stood up for non-binary people. Not a lot of people do that. And when you got here, asked me my pronouns, even though everyone assumes I'm a guy. Especially since models are divided by "male" and "female." The way you respect people's gender made me want to have you as a friend because most of my friends are so shitty that I can't stand them. And then there you are - this considerate person that just understands. I want that kind of positivity in my life."

Peter was blown away by the sincerity and earnest appreciation in Johnny's speech. 

"Wow. Yeah, of course! I totally understand that. And I don't think I'm being THAT great; I'm just trying to be a decent, good person. You know?" 

Johnny stared him in the eye. "Listen to me. What you are doing is super important. To me - and to other people, I'm sure. The way that you take so much care not to misgender people personally means more than I can explain, Peter." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm transgender."

Peter blinked. "Okay. That's really cool of you to tell me; I'm really humbled. And your pronouns -"

"Are still he/him." Johnny confirmed. "Peter, I'm a transgender _man._ "

"Oh! Wow, you must have found out young then, huh? No, sorry, that's none of my business." Peter had let his curiously get the better of him and apologized for it. 

"Thanks. But I actually would like to talk about it. You're the only one who knows besides my family, and they don't always understand. They love me, and they're trying, but even after all these years there's still... difficulties." He shrugged, faux casual. 

Peter bit his lip before asking, "Your family is really famous. _You're_ really famous. As a superhero. And as a model. How did you keep the tabloids from finding out?" 

Johnny smiled. "Before I was able to wear men's clothing, I didn't live with my sister. Our parents were separated. By the time that I went to live with Sue, I had already started wearing whatever I wanted. And Sue... was frustrated because she didn't understand." He frowned. "We fought a lot. I almost never was photographed with her because we just couldn't stand each other. I started hormone therapy without her permission. I paid off a lot of doctors. By the time that I hit puberty, I undoubtedly looked and passed for male. It was wonderful. I got scouted by an agency, who to this day thinks I'm just a shy cis boy that won't take off his undershirt or underwear. As if."

"You? Shy?" Peter teased. 

"I know!" Johnny laughed. "...But things changed when Sue met Reed. She dated him, got her heart broken. And she said to me later that it was why she decided to approach me. She wanted to love someone and have someone that loved her. Who better than family?" Johnny was quiet for a moment. "Of course, she and Reed are together now, but she still makes the effort. She calls me Johnny now, and she apologizes when she says insensitive things that hurt me. She's learning. She's not perfect, but she's my sister."

"Of course, at times, it still is beyond frustrating and more than I can bear. So you, Peter, when I realized that you get it- that you understand gender and are compassionate about it - I knew I need to be your friend. I need that type of understanding in my life. Also, we can be in the Supermodel Gender-Defender Club together. Let's start that club."

"Supermodel Gender-Defender Club, huh?" Peter laughed. Then hesitated. "How about, he said slowly, "The Supermodel _Superhero_ Gender-Defender Club?" 

Johnny blinked at him. "Uh, Peter, not that you aren't wonderful - you are - but being a superhero is an actual title. Like, you have to earn it. By saving the world, the city, or at least a lot of people!"

Peter smiled. "Have you ever heard of Spiderman?" He asked idly.

"Yeahhh? What does that have to-" Johnny froze as Peter started grinning. "No. No way! You are literally shitting me! You are _literally_ shitting me!" 

Peter laughed. "I can promise you that I _literally_ am not." 

"No! But you're a model!" He couldn't wrap his head around it, amazed. 

"And so are you, Flamebrain."

"Okay. That's true." He acknowledged. He took a deep breath and then said, "So. The Supermodel Super _hero_ Gender-Defender Club is then. Me and you." His eyes narrowed suddenly. "Unless you know other superheroes that are secretly supermodels. I swear, if it's anyone on the Avengers, they're not allowed to join. I don't care what you say; Tony Stark insulted my sister to her face." 

"Some of the Avengers SHOULD be supermodels - actually all of them should be - but none of them are, to my knowledge." Peter assured him. "And seriously? What'd he say?"

"Oh." Johnny waved his hand dismissively. "That she was a huge idiot for marrying Reed. Which, Reed is Reed so I understand why, but that's my sister. No one calls her an idiot!" 

Peter couldn't help laughing.

\---------------------------------------------

"Soooo. Tell me why you refuse to catwalk. C'mooon." He sang-songed. "I'll be your beeest friiiieeend." 

Peter laughed, shoving at his shoulder. "I'm never agreeing to that! MJ would find out, and she would kill me! Or both of us!"

Johnny pouted, the expression ridiculous and over exaggerated. "Being my bff isn't good enough? Maybe I can entice you to tell me with..." He paused dramatically, lifting his eyebrows expectantly. "The limerick that I wrote for you. You - my best friend!" 

"You did not write me a limerick!" Peter protested, amused. 

"Oh, but I _did!_ " Johnny crowed triumphantly. 

"Are you ready? Can you even handle an original Johnny Storm limerick?" He tried to hype him up. 

"You know," Peter said wryly, "I don't know if I can handle it."

"Then brace yourself!" Johnny cracked his neck, stretching his arms and shaking out his hands, like an athlete preparing to start. Peter snorted. 

"Peter was a somewhat muscled man.  
His cheek was kissed by every gran.  
Peter was a model I knew,  
And his eyes weren't blue.  
He's my friend, and his last name isn't Pan." 

"Bravo." Peter smiled, amused. 

"Thank you. Thaaank you." Johnny swept his torso into a bow.

\---------------------------------------------

"So I hear that you're best friends with Johnny Storm. Did you just one day bond over you both being ridiculously attractive or ...?" The audience laughed, and the television host shrugged unapologetically. 

"Umm, no, no, nothing like that." Peter awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, shifting in his seat. 

"So what was it then? Did he tell you that he'd teach you how he picks up so many girls?" 

"Actually," Peter straightened up in his seat. "We bonded over my decision to respect people's genders and pronouns. Johnny thinks that it's a pretty decent thing to do."

She gaped at him. "Um, right. That's - that's quite the story there."

"Not really." Peter shrugged. "He just wanted to have a friend that supported people. I also advocate for women's rights, LGBTQIA rights, minority rights, and lots of other topics that I would gladly love to discuss with you."

The was a scattering of applause before everyone joined in. 

"We'll save those for next time!" She said with a strained smile. "Now, tell us - who is your favorite fashion designer in the industry to work with? Would you ever consider walking for them in a future show?" 

\-----------------------------------------------

"What," Peter's agent hissed after the interview, "was that?!" 

"My segment?" He offered.

The agent scowled. "I am ten seconds from walking away. You _know_ that you needed good press, right? You _know_ that this interview is supposed to keep your good momentum going? You _know_ that it's all in order to cover up and move on from _your_ little sleepover scandal with Mary Jane. So tell me. Why on Earth did you just pull a stunt like that?" 

"I'm confused." Peter narrowed his eyes. "What 'stunt' are you referring to? Because I didn't do anything wrong."

"Didn't - didn't do anything wrong? Ha!" He sneered disdainfully. "You just caused a scandal! By tomorrow, you're going to be in so many mocking articles. Maybe by this evening. And do you know what they'll say? They'll say that liberal, radical, hippie model Peter Parker thinks he can just go on an interview, not answer the questions honestly, and just rant about things he thinks are important."

"I did answer honestly!" Peter protested. 

"Oh please." The agent snorted. "Like Johnny Storm actually cares about gender issues. The only gender that he cares about is female - and only when they're all hanging off his motorcycle. Or in his bed."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Peter rebuffed angrily. 

"I know plenty! You think you're a hot shot because you're successful now? I've been an agent longer than you've been a model, kid! Who do you think got you there?"

"Well, maybe I don't need you." Peter said in a low voice. 

"What did you just say?" He quietly asked, mouth trembling in shock. 

"You heard me." Peter said softly. 

"Fine. I don't need to deal with your ungrateful ass anyways. Models that don't walk don't make it anyways. You only had so long left anyways before I left you for some other brat. Better now than later."

He walked away, without ever glancing at Peter.

\---------------------------------------------

Peter must have stood there for a while, rubbing at his face tiredly with his hands. Because the next thing he knew, someone was asking him something in a worried voice. 

He looked up. The slightly familiar face peered at him, concerned. 

"Are you okay?" They asked again, peering up in worry. 

"Um. Yeah. I guess I am." He answered. "Sorry; it's just - my ride just left me. And I kind of just fired my agent. Who was also my ride. And I didn't bring my wallet or anything, which means the subway or a cab is out of the picture. So."

Normally, that wouldn't be a problem for Peter. He would just peel off his clothes, stuff his mask over his head, and web-sling home. However, today, he knew that probably would have had to change into the wardrobe provided for him. And so, he decided to leave his Spiderman suit at home in order to not risk his secret identity being discovered. 

Their frown deepened. "Oh, that's just terrible!" They offered sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do to help, Mr. Parker?"

Peter eyed them thoughtfully. They really _did_ seem familiar. "Intern 14?" He questioned uncertainly. 

"Um. What?"

Peter realized that even if it was them, that it wasn't actually their name and therefore they wouldn't recognize it. 

"Were you, by any chance, an intern at my first photo shoot for Vogue magazine?" He clarified, a bit embarrassed. 

Their face brightened. A hint of rosy colored rested on their cheeks. "Oh! You remembered! I didn't think you would remember me!" 

Peter smiled. "Um, well, I miiight have called you Intern 14 in my head. So. I recognize you, but I don't know your name, sorry."

"No, no! That's more than I ever expected! And it's Lauren." 

"Ah." He hummed. "I'm Peter. He/Him pronouns."

Her eyebrows raised, her eyes crinkling in laughter as he introduced himself. "Yeah, I did know that... And, uh, I'm she pronouns." 

Then she became more serious. "So you don't have a ride?" She bit her lip in thought before saying, "My boyfriend works security here, and his shift is over in ten minutes. I'll have him drive you. If that's okay with you?" 

He was flabbergasted at her kindness for a moment. "That's - I couldn't put him out of his way!" He protested. 

"No, no! He's a big fan! Not in a weird way or anything. He just... We're both fans." She looked embarrassed. "You were one of the first models I interacted with as an intern - and certainly the most famous. We're both rooting for you."

Peter felt humbled. 

"Oh," He said softly. "Then, yeah, a ride sounds great."

\------------------------------------------

Newspapers the next day released the issues with a generic photograph of Peter and headlines like "Model Behavior" and "The Very Picture of Tolerance." The Entertainment and Lifestyle articles pretty much all passive aggressively stated that Peter should focus on modeling instead of politics, but what he was saying was "idealistic and future-forward." That last quote was one of the nicer ones. And directly from The Daily Bugle came, "Johnny Storm Becomes Best Friends With Parker!"

It didn't talk about the interview at all, except to reaffirm his validation of their friendship. Peter thought he might frame it and give it to Johnny. Or - when she was being particularly exasperating - give it to Mary Jane. (He just might do that anyways.) 

\-------------------------------------------

And, of course, the Daily Bugle's _actual_ headline - the front page - was about Spiderman. 

"Menace Attack Old Lady After Robbing Bank!" 

Peter stared at it, amazed at the long title. And at the audacity. The new photographer had given them a photo of Spiderman scooping up an old lady in front of the bank. He had saved her from the crumbling architecture, because the _actual_ bank robbers - that Spiderman had stopped! - had destroyed the roof. 

Well. Something's never changed. 

Peter smiled. Oddly enough seeing, it had reassured him about the articles featuring Peter Parker. 

As someone incredibly wise - or at least very trendy - had once said, "Haters gonna hate, hate, hate." 

Peter's phone buzzed, and he went to check it. 

Johnny's text read, "Yikes. Wanna go get pizza or something?" 

He was about to respond when he got another message. 

MJ's text - because they were ridiculously in sync - read, "Shake, shake, shake it off, Tiger." 

Peter paused. 

"Can I bring someone along?" He texted Johnny. 

And then to Mary Jane, he sent, "Are you in the mood for some pizza?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on Johnny even being in this story at first. But now that he is - I saw the golden opportunity for transgender model Johnny, and I took it.
> 
> And you may have noticed by now, but a lot of the tags have changed to suit the direction the plot is heading in. Again, there will be no romance but there will be friendship and gender themes. 
> 
> Also, I love the AO3 support. Can I send a million hugs to them? Because hele from support is wonderful.


	4. "The Pain Of Life"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also titled "When Peter Met Harry"
> 
> With a little asterisk that says at the bottom of the page, in tiny print, "And He Didn't Even Punch Harry In His Annoying Face Even Though He Really, Really Wanted To"
> 
> It's a long title but pretty accurate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - some food mentions with talk about eating. There's a slightly judgmental bit about how much a character consumes. Also implications of someone going a bit hungry in the past but not now. 
> 
> It's all over very quickly. Just skip the very first section if that's something that makes you uncomfortable.

"Two large cheese pizzas, one medium pepperoni pizza. And whatever they plan on eating." Peter waved a hand towards his two gaping friends behind him.

"You're eating that all by yourself?" Mary Jane asked in astounded horror. 

"Dude." Johnny whispered in awe. 

"Yes...?" Peter asked slowly, then his eyes widened a bit in realization, and then he blushed self consciously. "I...have a really fast metabolism?" Peter said, not quite managing to pull off a straight poker face. When he saw that they weren't fooled in the slightest, he added, "Also, I skipped breakfast so now I'm really hungry." 

The metabolism thing was a bit closer to the truth. With his spider powers, he used up substantial amounts of energy. And energy needed to be replaced. Plus, ever since he was bitten, he had been extra hungry and more ravenous than he had been in the past. Now that he had a good cushion of money in his income, he allowed himself to eat until he was full. It was something that he hadn't realized would be so wonderful until he tried it. 

Johnny and Mary Jane exchanged a look before shrugging it off and ordering for themselves. 

\---------------------------------------

\------------------------------------------

"Oh my gosh." Peter laughed, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. 

"I swear it's true!" MJ enthusiastically said. "They honestly asked me to have my muse be 'making love to dairy-free cheese.' But then they told me to stop being so sensual and to be more romantic instead - to fondle the cheese. _That_ photo shoot was certainly... interesting."

"I would have punched somebody." Johnny swore, laughing. 

"I was _this_ close to!" Mary Jane assured them both, holding up her fingers in a little pinching motion. 

"Oh my _gosh._ " Peter said again, his shoulders shaking with his hysterical amusement. 

"Okay - you definitely win! That is the worst modeling job, period. Mine doesn't stand a chance." Johnny chuckled. 

"No, no!" Peter hurried to say. "I still want to hear yours!"

Johnny tried to stop laughing and compose himself. He took a deep breath. "Okay. Here goes. So I walked in expecting to be modeling a watch, right?" Peter nodded, and MJ made a hum of acknowledgement. "But when I got there, they asked me to model the watch not on my wrist." 

Peter's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "What did they ask you to model it on then?" 

Johnny waggled his eyebrows. 

"No!" Mary Jane gasped, appalled and amused as the same time. 

"What? Where?" Peter questioned curiously, not understanding the gesture. MJ burst out laughing. 

Johnny tilted his head to the side and smiled coyly. "In Australia." 

MJ choked slightly on her laugh, and then resumed again with more vigor. "Australia? That doesn't sound so bad." Peter said in response. 

"Mmm-hmm. Down under." Johnny waggled his eyebrows again. This time, the suggestive smirk and tone of his voice helped to clue Peter in. 

"You're not talking about Australia, are you?" Peter asked, horrified. 

"Nope." Johnny admitted, grinning unashamedly. 

"Oh my gosh." Peter said. 

"Yup." Johnny lounged back in his chair smugly at Peter's current suitably amazed reaction. "I declined, naturally, but it still was one of my more interesting and memorable experiences." 

"A watch. Nude!" Peter whispered in disbelief. 

"Not _just_ nude." Johnny delightedly reminded him. "They wanted it on my - " 

"Johnny!" Peter interrupted, embarrassed. 

MJ snorted. "You're too naive, Peter. Do wan to hear about all the weird things that _I've_ modeled nude?" 

Peter's cheeks flamed red. "No, please no." 

MJ and Johnny both started laughing at his horrified tone and wide eyes. 

\--------------------------------------------

Peter left. 

Mary Jane's eyes immediately narrowed. "Peter is my BFF; so we're arguing over that, just so you know." 

"Seriously?" Johnny asked, rearing back in surprise at the sudden hostility from her. "We can both share Peter!" 

"I don't think so, Storm. I'm a very competitive person, and Peter is _my_ best friend." 

"I thought we were all best friends! The three of us? Together?" 

"Don't get me wrong - you and I are still friends. But until I get an article written about it," MJ vowed, "You're my competition." 

"That's ridiculous! You're ridiculous!" 

"What I am," Mary Jane smirked. "Is very competitive." She rose from the table gracefully, flicking her long, crimson hair over her shoulder as she took off. 

"What. The _hell?_ " Johnny muttered to himself. 

\--------------------------------------------

As Peter was waiting backstage for Johnny one day, someone approached him. 

"Harry Osborn." He said loftily, as way of an introduction. "But I'm sure you knew that." 

"Uh, Peter Parker." Peter offered hesitantly. "Nice to meet you." 

"Felicia!" The man beckoned, with a snap of his fingers. Immediately the person next to him pulled out a ribbon of tape measure and began to wrap it around Peter. They quickly started stating numbers, and someone next to Felicia began to jot them down hurriedly. 

"Uh." Peter pulled away from the quick hands that had suddenly been _measuring_ him. "What are you doing?" He asked incredulously, awkwardly shuffling away as they tried again to resume measuring. 

"We're taking your measurements, of course." Harry Osborn said pompously. 

"Yeah, of course, that's nice. But _why?_ " Peter demanded, yanking away yet again from the fingers. 

Harry scoffed. "For the fittings. Everything has to be perfect for my next show." 

There had to be some miscommunication here, Peter thought. "I'm not - I don't model on the runway." He protested. 

That sentence made the man frown. "Don't be ridiculous. I'll pay you of course." 

"I don't want your money." He responded immediately. 

"Everyone wants my money!" Harry snapped impatiently. 

"Well I don't." Peter frowned. "Not if it means walking on the runway. Have a mice day." 

He left Harry Osborn gaping after him. 

Peter was just going to have to wait somewhere else for Johnny. Because, clearly, he was going to be harassed if he stayed inside. 

\------------------------------------------

It wasn't the end Harry Osborn trying to recruit Peter into walking for him. 

"So I hear that you won't walk in runway shows."

"That, that _is_ the plan, yeah." Peter sighed, looking down at the smoothie that he was drinking in despair; he really didn't want to have to deal with Harry Osborn _again_ today. 

"What about me? Wouldn't you walk for _the_ Harry Osborn?" He crooned. 

"Um, thanks but no. No thanks." Peter answered, smiling tightly. 

"Won't you just consider walking in my men's collection? It could really use some fresh talent like you. You're the newest face of male modeling - a real rising star." 

Peter fidgeted, shuffling as Harry Osborn seemed to zoom in on Peter's nervous fingers anxiously fraying his sweater. Harry looked... intrigued? "Um, no thanks." Peter said again. 

He looked almost vicious as he said, "I think you'd be the perfect man for the job."

"Sorry," Peter spoke more sternly now. "But I really disagree. Goodbye." He turned and started walking away. 

"You disagree that you'd be perfect or you disagree that you'd be the perfect _man?_ " Harry called out after him. 

Peter tripped over his own feet. 

"Whaaat?" He laughed, his voice pitched alarmingly high. "Are you trying to say I'm 'not man enough' in an attempt to goad me into modeling for you? Because that's just sexist and disrespectful towards women. And I really ought to be leaving." He fumbled his way out of the dressing room. The door accidently slipped from his nervous fingers, slamming harshly in the silence. 

Harry Osborn stared after him. 

"Well," He said to the empty room, "That just about answers _that_ question." 

And his lips twisted into a victorious smirk. 

He left the dressing room whistling. Even though he hadn't gotten Peter to agree to catwalk, Harry had still gotten what he came for. And it was exactly what he needed. Peter Parker didn't know what Harry now had. Really, Harry thought scoldingly, it was his own fault. He was too expressive, too trusting. 

And Harry was going to use that for his own advantage and benefit. 

Harry could read Peter Parker like a book. He knew it from his past interviews. This - this only confirmed every suspicion that Harry had held before. Every hope. Peter Paker wasn't ever going to walk in a _men's_ collection. And Harry - Harry would be the one to reveal that he _understood,_ that Peter didn't _have_ to walk as a _man._ He could just be Peter. In a collection. Not a _men's_ collection; no, in _Harry Osborn's_ collection.

\---------------------------------------------

Peter should have been suspicious when there was a fruit basket delivered to him at his next photo shoot. Instead, he had naively eaten flower-shaped cantaloupe on a stick. It wasn't like he hadn't checked the card; he just didn't remember why a Felicia would have sent him nicely arranged fruit. Did he even know anyone with that name? It vaguely struck a chord in his memory, but he shrugged it off after a while. 

There were reporters waiting for him outside. Which, Peter was slowly getting accustomed to dealing with the press, but today there seemed like an excessive amount. Camera flashes immediately started going off as he started to make his way through the crowd. 

"Mr. Parker!" Someone shouted. "Is it true that you're going to be debuting this weekend in Harry Osborn's newest men's collection?" 

Peter's mouth opened wordlessly. He couldn't believe it. Why _the actual heck_ did people think that? He declined to comment, confused and not trusting himself to speak. 

When he was in the subway, he realized that this weekend was the weekend that he had promised Mary Jane to go watch her at Fashion Week. But, even if someone knew that he was planning on going - attending and participating were two _very_ different things. Plus, how did Harry Osborn's name get thrown in there too? It just made no sense. 

Felicia. He realized, and he would have smacked his own head if he weren't holding the fruit arrangement. That had been the name of the assistant with the measuring tape. He eyes the fruit with distrusting eyes now they he knew they were associated with Harry Osborn. Some how, Peter was sure that he was responsible for the new rumors. 

Was the fruit supposed to be intended as a bribe or compensation for Peter's troubles? Either way, Peter wasn't going to fall for it. 

He'd eat the fruit because it was really delicious, but that didn't mean that he had to like who they were from or what they possibly symbolized. 

\--------------------------------------------

Mary Jane practically danced down the runway, her dress sashaying with every movement. Peter had cheered loudly; beside him, Johnny gave a few sharp whistles - not catcalls, just genuine and sharp whistles - as he clapped along, his hands steaming up just a bit as he did so. 

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Johnny asked, nudging him. "You might have fun for once, you nerd." 

Peter smiled and shoved Johnny's elbow away from his ribs. "I'm sure, thanks. I'm just going to head out _before_ anyone notices I'm here." 

"What if it's someone hot that notices though? Or someone cool?" Johnny tried to convince him. 

"Unless Tony Stark asks me to stay..." Peter said playfully just to see the way Johnny's face scowled at the name. Peter laughed. "Nah, I'm off. See ya, man!" 

\--------------------------------------------

Despite his best efforts, Peter was spotted on his way towards finding an exit. 

"Peter!" Harry Osborn called out, clearly relieved. "Thank goodness you're here! I'm a model short, and my collection is going out in two minutes! Is your pant size a 32?" 

"Yes?" Peter said hesitantly and then realized what was happening here. "But, wait! No, I'm not modeling. Sorry." 

Harry Osborn stated at him in stunned disbelief. "C'mon. Please. Help me, Peter Parker; you're my only hope." He smiled charmingly at him. 

Peter hesitated. But then shook his head. "I'm sorry, but no. Can't you wear it?" 

Harry blinked at him. "That's a great idea. Thanks." He said monotonously. Peter nodded, then awkwardly started walking away. He heard Harry say into his phone, "Felicia? Send out Jerry. Parker said no." 

Peter's jaw dropped. But when he turned around, Harry Osborn was already disappeared in the flurry of people. 

\---------------------------------------------

"He's hotter than fire; he's also _on_ fire. Please welcome: Johnny Storm!" 

"Straight from Fashion Week and here to promote her newest role in the movie 'The Great Gatsby,' put your hands together for Mary Jane Watson!" 

"Hello, happy to be here." Mary Jane said, waving at everyone. 

"Especially with this hottie?" The host asked, and a cymbal noise crashed at the pun. 

Mary Jane's nose scrunched. "Um. He's almost like an older brother to me, so... I'll have to decline to answer that." 

Johnny laughed merrily. "Well, you're certainly as annoying as a sister." 

"Oh?" MJ smiled sharply. "As annoying as you then?" 

"Is there some sort of feud going on right now?" The host inquired curiously. 

They both answered with two different responses. 

"No." 

"Yes." 

" _Yes?_ " Johnny boggled in disbelief. 

Mary Jane lifted her eyebrows pointedly. "You know what it is." 

"And let's just say - purely for arguement's sake here - that I have _no clue_ what you're talking about." 

Mary Jane stared at him for a moment and then sighed when he still didn't understand. "You know. Our competition about _Bambi._ " 

Johnny's face lit up in understanding. "Oh! Right! _That_ one. We're still arguing over that?" He wondered aloud and then said, "Yes, we've definitely agreed to feud over Bambi." 

"You mean that wimpy dear?" The host chuckled. They both stared at the television host blankly. "It was a line from 'The Sandlot.' No? Moving on!" The host clapped their hands once in excitement. "How are things besides that?" 

"Oh, lovely. Just really lovely right?" Mary Jane said, looking at Johnny for his opinion, and Johnny nodded in agreement. 

Johnny spoke. "We've been hanging out a lot together because we have a mutual best friend." Mary Jane's whole face lit up at that sentence, but Johnny ignored her and continued on. "We both really love Peter Parker. He's just the greatest friend, so all three of us have been hanging out together. It's been seriously fun." 

Mary Jane nodded, her smile bright. "Yeah. We've all been having a great time. We're all just been best friends together." She glanced at Johnny significantly for a moment. 

"I have a feeling that our feud about Bambi is going to end soon too." Johnny caught on. "MJ and I are both best friends with Peter, and he'd hate it if we were too busy competing over a ...movie to enjoy spending any time with him. He'd get so lonely!" 

"Speaking of Peter, I understand that your friend Peter Parker was supposed to debut, and then he never showed up." The television host tried to steer the interview back on track, into some form of actual comprehensive discussion. 

"That's what happens when you listen to gossip." Johnny Storm chided, shaking his head. "The rumors of him agreeing to walk were sadly only rumors." 

"Peter's not interested in walking the runway anytime soon." Mary Jane confirmed. "Which is a real shame. Everyone books him for photos because he's so doe-eyed; but he's actually a real tiger, and I want to see him on the prowl." 

Johnny smiled, shaking his head slightly. "MJ and I are _trying_ to talk him into it, but the key word there is 'trying' because Pete's pretty stubborn." 

The television host looked amused. "And how do you think he feels about the two of you ganging up on him? Does he know?"

MJ smirked. "Oh, he knows all right." 

"We're really not very subtle." Johnny agreed, shrugging. 

"Well," The host said with a grin. "I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say that I hope you two can convince him!"

\-----------------------------------------

"He's such a jerk." Peter moaned, flopping his head onto Mary Jane's shoulder. 

She hummed in agreement. And then she pointed to Peter's slice of pizza and said, "So are you going to eat that or what?" 

"Mary Jaaaane." 

"I'll take that as a yes." She grabbed the slice, cheese stretching and dangling as she viciously tore off a bit. 

Peter turned towards Johnny pleadingly. 

"Hey, don't look at _me_ like that!" Johnny protested. "I've listened to your Osborn rant plenty of times! It's MJ's turn!" 

"Screw you, Fireball." She replied. "What did I do to you to deserve _that?_ I hate the 'Harry Osborn Is So Mean To Me' rant." 

"Yeah?" Johnny asked challengingly. "That's funny. Because _I'm_ the one that always has to listen to it, not you." 

"You guys." Peter lifted his head from MJ's shoulder. "Do you see? Harry Osborn is tearing us all apart."

Johnny and Mary Jane both froze. The anger left their faces, and they both exchanged a look with each other, like they were both fondly exasperated with Peter. They seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion via telepathically communicating, and it was - quite frankly - annoying. 

"What?" Peter asked. 

"Peter, I swear - " Johnny started to say, but MJ cut him off. 

"If you complain about Harry Osborn _one more_ time," She threatened, "then I'm going to shave off all your hair. And Johnny is going to help me."

"I am? Oh! Yes, I am." Johnny agreed after a moment. 

"Okay, Johnny would never." Peter protested. Johnny looked guiltily towards Mary Jane, which meant he was clearly in agreement with Peter. "But I see your point."

Peter flopped his head down to lay on the table, his forehead resting on the smooth surface - and also on a small puddle of soda pop. He grimaced. His hair was going to be wet and sticky because of that. 

"But he is a jerk. Such a jerk." He murmured to himself, sulking just a teeny bit. 

"If you don't stop pouting," MJ warned him. "Then I'm going to let Johnny eat your last slice of pizza." 

Peter's head shot up. "You two are terrible people." He said as he spied his pizza, still with half a section left to it.

"Mmm." MJ hummed in agreement. "But we're _your_ terrible people." 

Peter grinned, his smile a bit goofy. "Yeah. Yeah you are." 

"You sap." Johnny teased, smiling as well. 

And maybe Peter was a sap if being a sap meant that his friends could cheer him up just by reminding him that they were his friends. 

But Peter really didn't see a fault with that. 

And, judging by the gentle amusement present in both of his friends' eyes, MJ and Johnny also didn't see a fault in that either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted MJ and Johnny to immediately get along. But then instead suddenly they had a mini feud? Luckily they've resolved it, so they can be how I wanted them.
> 
> And I realize that people might be disappointed with how Harry and Peter are not friends _at all._ Just wait for it. ;)


	5. "For Your Finest Inspiration"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally convinces Peter.

Peter felt extra tired. 

Harry Osborn was finding new and creative ways to corner Peter in attempts to coerce him into agreeing. 

So recently Peter had to be more diligent in not being caught web slinging away in an alley after a photo shoot. Because, more than likely, Harry Osborn was waiting for him in that alley. It was tedious and exhausting to constantly be on guard; but more than that, it was annoying. Since Harry wasn't actually intending to cause him harm, Peter's Spidey Senses didn't ever go off. So Peter always had to maintain constant vigilance. 

"Mad-Eye Moody would be so proud." Peter muttered to himself as he snuck out into the alley and looked around carefully. Sighing in relief, he shrugged off his backpack in order to stash his clothes in when he swapped them for his costume. 

"Peter!" A way too familiar voice called out, and then footsteps approached. 

Peter abruptly straightened up. He looked wistfully at his backpack and the discarded jacket that was stuffed into it. But, sighing, he picked the backpack up and slung it over one shoulder. 

"I've already said that I'm not interested, but thank you." Peter immediately said, without giving pause for Harry Osborn to try and persuade him. 

He turned, walking away. Even Harry Osborn would have to understand that walking away was a clear sign of refusal. 

Obviously, Peter's hopes for him were too high. 

"I want you as my finale in my women's collection." He called out, tone calm. 

Peter stopped. 

"What," Peter spun around, "makes you think that I would agree to that? I've already said 'no' to you." 

Harry grinned a self-assured smirk. "But you won't say no to modeling womansware." 

Peter's fists clenched in frustration. "How can you be so sure of that? I'm pretty fond of the word 'no.' I'm sure you've realized that by now."

He didn't look surplussed about the possibility of Peter declining. "All of my woman will be wearing mensware. And you, the finale, will be in womansware." Peter hesitated, interested in the idea despite himself. "And do you know what the collection will be called?" Harry paused, as if Peter might take a guess. 

He was rather theatrical, Peter decided as he waited for him to continue talking. 

"The collection is going to be called 'They.'" 

Peter inhaled sharply, and Harry's grin widened triumphantly. 

"I thought that that would get your interest. Like I said, you're not going to say no this time." 

Feeling conflicted, Peter demanded angrily, "So what? You designed an entire line of clothing with a concept that you knew I'd be interested in - just because you wanted me to walk for you? Because that's not weird or anything." 

Harry laughed. "Peter, Peter. You have a vivid imagination. This collection was drafted and sketched way before I had ever met you."

"Why?" Peter asked quietly, his hands tightening into clenched, frustrated fists. "To be 'different?' To be 'scandalous?' I need to know WHY." 

All the bravado on his face fell like it had been a delicate facade. "Because I'm non-binary. And I'm coming out to the public at the season debut. With a collection that is _supposed_ to be my new woman's ware collection, but I'm just calling it my new collection. With or without you, Peter. But I'd really like you to be there instead of someone else." 

He seemed to be more heartfelt, genuine, and honest than Peter had ever seen him. And if that was true, if this wasn't some ploy by Harry Obsorn just to have Peter walk for him, then Peter knew that he would accept without a doubt. As it was, he only had very minimal doubts. 

Call him naive, but he really actually believed Harry. Even though Harry had previously tried to trick him in the past. Maybe Peter should stay wary, but it was hard when Harry looked so earnest and anxious. And Peter kind of hoped that someone wouldn't stoop so low as to fake that they were about to come out in order to manipulate Peter. But, well, Peter had learned that you could never know nowadays in this industry. Peter could only hope Harry wasn't deceiving him in order to profit from Peter's sympathy. 

"Okay. I will. But just this once! Because I want to support you." Peter agreed with smile. He wanted to be encouraging towards Harry. Because if this was real - and Peter wanted to assume it was - then Harry needed encouragement and kindness, not skeptical looks. Peter would just have to bury any cynical thoughts. 

"Thank you! You won't regret it!" Harry laughed in delight, his face visibly relieved. "I've already had a contract struck up; it's somewhere back in my office or with Felicia. We can go and sign, if you'd like?" He began to lead the way, his steps quick and excited. 

Peter narrowed his eyes at the sheer arrogance of him having had assumed he'd be able to talk Peter into it. It was a bit annoying that Harry had been that overwhelmingly confident. "Alright. But, can I ask you what your pronouns are in order to avoid misgendering you?"

Harry halted. "Um. Right now, I just prefer he/him." 

"Okay." Peter began walking im the direction Harry had indicated. 

Harry didn't follow at first. "Don't - don't you think that's weird?" He asked nervously, still not moving. "That I claim to be non-binary and yet I use male pronouns?"

Peter's face softened. "Harry. Your gender is always valid. No matter what. And whatever pronouns make you feel the most comfortable, those are what you should use. They don't change how you identify or how 'authentic' your gender is. Also - some times, for some people, a person can have flexible pronouns. What may feel right today may not feel right tomorrow or next week or in ten years. Some people never change their pronouns. Everyone is different. And if you feel self-conscious about your pronouns, that's an understandable anxiety, but - believe me - it's absurd."

"You are you. One hundred percent." Peter continued gently. "The labels that you use and allow others to use to describe you are just words. They don't change who you are. It's important - it is - but do you understand when I say it's not that important? Don't worry about anyone that tells you that your pronouns or your gender isn't good enough or valid enough. It is. You are."

Harry stood there, staring at Peter with wide eyes for a long tim. Then he blinked furiously, turning away hastily. "An eyelash or something." He said, swiping at wet eyes with a hasty hand.

"Alright." Peter allowed him the semblance of privacy by pretending it was, indeed, an eyelash; so he started walking once more. Harry joined him, sniffling softly behind him and trying to muffle the sounds. 

Peter's heart ached for him, and for all the people that had never heard what Peter had just told Harry. And that was why he was definitely doing the fashion show. Because Harry deserved it. Because all non-binary and agender and bigender and genderqueer and everyone else that didn't conform to gender - they all deserved it. But, Peter thought, especially the people who couldn't quite feel like they fit with any label or were valid enough for a label. Those were the people that he especially was going to do the show for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. You don't know how sleep deprived I've been, but I went to work on this story and seriously freaked out because I didn't remember posting that last chapter _at all._
> 
> So I did edit it very slightly, if you were notified about an update. It's just a couple lines added.


	6. "There's Nothing To It"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People react to the news.
> 
> Also, friendly bonding happens. Sort of.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" 

Peter looked up in surprise at the shout. Johnny was, well, storming furiously towards him. "Harry Osborn?!" He hissed angrily when he reached Peter. Steam was rising from the tips of his ears and, oddly, his fingers. 

Peter just shrugged a bit, unsure of what to say. 

Clearly, Johnny had heard the buzzing rumors that were flying around about Harry, the catwalk, and Peter. And, clearly, he was extremely upset about it. 

"The _same_ Harry Osborn that you've spent the last few weeks _complaining_ about to anyone who'll listen?" Johnny gave him an unimpressed and feverish stare, his tone heavily urgent. " _That_ Harry Osborn?"

"Yes, Johnny." Peter sighed. " _That_ Harry Osborn."

Johnny nodded, his anger clearing a bit as calm understanding suddenly washed over him. 

"Is he blackmailing you?" He then asked in the uttermost concern. 

" _What?!_ " Peter's jaw hung open, taken off guard by the unexpected question. 

Johnny's previous fury returned with more force. "That little - I swear, when I get my hands on him - "

"Johnny!" Peter interrupted frantically. "He's not blackmailing me! Or anything else that you can think up!"

"Well, then tell me why, Peter!" Johnny glared, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Tell me why, all of a sudden, you now decide to walk the runway after consistently saying how you'll never want to do it - and all because of some rude designer that last week you claimed was more annoying than MJ and me put together! Tell me _why,_ Peter, or I have to assume the worst. Just," He sighed heavily, suddenly sounding exhausted, " _tell_ me."

"Johnny." Peter's voice came out quieter than he had intended. "Do you trust me?" 

He stared at him, his gaze solemn. "I trust you, Peter. You know that I do. It's _him_ that I don't trust."

Peter didn't quite know what to say to that in response. 

"Mr. Parker?" An intern hesitantly asked, seeming nervous to interrupt their intense feud. "They're ready on set for you now." The intern turned to Johnny and looked like they were debating whether they were supposed to address him or not; as they looked at him, looked away, and then looked at him, they seemed apprehensive. "Mr. Torch." They finally said in a a quick voice before leaving in a scurry. 

Peter slowly looked over to Johnny. Johnny looked over at Peter. 

When their eyes met, they both started laughing. 

Johnny clapped Peter on the shoulder soundly. "All right." He sighed, still grinning. "Just let me know if I need to barbecue someone for you. Someone with the name that rhymes with Larry Hosborn." 

"Johnny, _no._ " Peter couldn't help but laugh. 

"Uh, Johnny, _yes._ This superhero is willing to defend, Peter. I joined a club and everything; the least I can do is defend my fellow club member." 

Peter swatted at his shoulder, which was still several degrees warmer than average. "Go away, you menace." 

"Uh, according to The Bugle, that's you." Johnny sniggered. 

Peter groaned, but he also smiled as he said, "Johnnyyyyy." 

"Okay, okay, I get it! You're fine, I should go, and it's a hold for barbecuing Osborn." 

"Go away, Flame-brain." Peter shooed. Johnny listened, walking away both amusedly and reluctantly. 

"You know you love me!" Johnny called over his shoulder smugly. 

"Not if you were the last person on Earth!" Peter teased, grinning. 

"I've been to space, dork!" He replied. 

Peter was going to reply that he had too, but then remembered his surroundings. 

Johnny had had the last word, Peter bemoaned. Which meant that Johnny had won.

\-----------------------------------

"Am I doing the right thing?" Peter asked. He was sitting down awkwardly, crouched on his ankles, and so he shifted until he was more comfortable. "I mean, it's the responsible thing, right? Helping someone who needs my help? Standing up for what I believe in? How do I know that _this_ is how I'm supposed to help though." Peter ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "How am I supposed to _know_ what's the right thing and what isn't?"

The crisp morning air held no answers. 

Peter sighed. "Sorry, Uncle Ben. I guess I'm not in the greatest of moods today." He leaned forward until his forehead rested gently against the cold stone. "I miss you. And I love you." He said softly. "I don't say that enough. I know that. Sorry that I mostly came here to rant." 

He straightened up, away from the tombstone, after his confession. "I think I'm going to take this home." He said offhandedly, nodding to the miniature bookshelf with magazines on it. "It was nice - comforting - to think that you could see my face or something. See how well I'm doing. But it's getting a bit too crowded now, and I'm sure you're tired of staring at my mug." 

Peter smiled at the thought. 

"Um." He dropped his eyes down, staring at the fresh bouquet of flowers that he had brought. "Can you just - give me a sign or something? Maybe that's silly. I just want to know that I'm on the right track. That you approve." Peter scratched the back of his neck self consciously. "Anyways, I'll see you soon. Promise."

He stood. Then he easily hefted the bookshelf up and carried it away, taking care not to spill the magazines all over as he walked.

\---------------------------------------------

"So."

"So."

MJ narrowed her eyes.

Peter resolutely pretended like he had no idea as to what she was trying to get at. He should have known better. 

She looked at him for a moment and, when he didn't say anything, nonchalantly opened up her purse. She casually pulled out a magazine and thumbed through it. 

"Uhhh - " He started to say questioning. 

"Shush." She settled in her chair as she had clearly found the page that she was looking for. 

"Harry Osborn," She read, glancing over the page to look at Peter pointedly. He was a bit abashed about the indirect route she was taking in order to get him to talk. "Claims that the rumors, unlike last time, are true. Peter Parker has indeed agreed to be in his runway show. Supposedly that was the case last time, though, and this reporter is a bit skeptical about it now. We could not reach him for confirmation or denial. Nonetheless, I'll be sure to grab a seat at Fashion Week, even if the highly sought after model - and highly elusive - " Peter snorted, but MJ just carried on. "-Peter Parker isn't there; the Osborn designer himself isn't someone to scoff at. However, I'd recommend to be there just in case Peter Parker does show up." 

Mary Jane set down the magazine and lifted her eyebrow. "So?" She said again questioningly, this time sounding smug. 

"So." Peter also said again, this time sounding uncertain about how to deter her. 

Mary Jane sighed. "Alright. Fine. Don't tell me."

"Well, if you insist." Peter gave a lopsided smile. 

" _Peter._ " She admonished. 

He didn't know what to say, how to explain. Just like before with Johnny, he couldn't really explain his actions without outing Harry. And that's something that he really, _really_ didn't want to do. 

He shrugged. "I liked his concept." He answered, shooting for some semblance of the truth. 

She stared at him. "And what concept is that?" She asked doubtfully. 

"It's - a secret. Confidential. There's a thing that I signed and everything." 

They locked eyes. Hers were unamused and disbelieving while his were nervously guilty. 

"Okay." She said simply. 

"Okay?" He blinked at the sudden end of her interest. Of her pursuing questions to find the reason. Just like that? 

She deftly rolled up the magazine and put it back in her purse. "You're an adult, Peter. I trust that you can make your own decisions. I'm also trusting that if you do need help, then you know you should come to me or Johnny; and we'll help you." Her eyes were stern as she looked at him. "As long as you understand that, it's okay."

Peter was incredibly touched. He stared back at her, gaping just a teensy bit. Something warm fluttered in his chest. 

"Thanks, MJ." He was embarrassed and pleased at the same time. He ducked his head to help hide his rosy cheeks. "That means a lot." 

She smiled. "Just don't be an idiot, okay? We're all here for you." She paused. "In our own ways."

Peter's lips also uplifted in a smile. "Yeah. I'm beginning to get that." He eyed her slyly. "You're not so bad, _Pacifica_." 

"Why you!" She charged at him, leaping out of her seat to capture his neck in a headlock. He laughed, even as she noogied his head, ruffling his hair with her fist and muttering faux angrily, her playful jeers only causing him to laugh more. 

"Uncle!" He finally cried out, tears of laughter in his eyes. "You win!"

She released him after one last noogie. Then she primly fixed the wrinkles in her blazer and cigarette trouser with a few wipes of her palms. 

"I always win." She sniffed haughtily. But her wide grin betrayed her. "And don't you forget it." 

\--------------------------------------------

He was _supposed_ to go to the first fitting at Harry Osborn's design studio today. But, well. Peter stared at the massive and elegant building in doubt. 

The address that Harry Osborn gave him was surely mistaken. 

Peter went inside anyways. 

There was a front desk with a little plaque that said "Secretary - Mr. Jackson" and so Peter walked anxiously across the silent lobby to that desk. 

"I'm, uh, here for the fitting?" Peter fidgeted as the secretary stared him down over the lenses of his glasses in disapproval. Which. The secretary looked more like someone that pushed people around, not pencils; the bicep muscles on Mr. Jackson were bigger than Peter's head. Not to say that he couldn't be a good secretary; it was just he could be a great _whatever_ tackling people or smashing their heads. 

"Name?" Mr. Jackson asked, typing on his computer keyboard, his massive arms flexing. Seriously - he could have been a football player or a hockey player. He was built like a super strong villain or something - so kudos to him for not being one, Peter supposed. 

"Peter Parker?" He winced at the look that the buff secretary shot him when Peter's distracted answer came out questioningly. 

"Step right on the blue marked tile and hold still for the camera." 

Peter followed the instructions, a but confused, and was momentarily blinded by a bright flash of light. 

The secretary harrumphed. "After your visitor's pass is printed, go ahead. Second elevator on your right. _Your_ right, not my right. Understood?"

"Yes." Peter nodded. And once the machine finished printing a little identification card with his name on it, he took it. He looked wide eyed and startled in it, but it wasn't the worst photo ever; he put it in his pocket hastily though and headed in the instructed direction. 

The second elevator on the right. Out of seven, as it turned out. 

It was a little difficult to comprehend. This elaborate, fancy building was really where just the studio was? Not where Harry lived? Peter couldn't even imagine how glamorous that location must be, if this was just where he liked to work. 

There was someone in the elevator. 

"What floor?" He asked cheerfully, tipping his bellboy hat. 

"Um." Peter panicked a bit. "The... studio? Harry Osborn's studio?" 

"May I see your visitor's pass card?"

Peter withdrew it from his pocket. 

"Thank you!"

_There was an actual bellboy that pushed the button for him._

Peter had severely underestimated how fancy this place was. Even from just moments ago, from before stepping into the elevator. 

He eyed his loose jogger pants and plain t-shirt and thought that maybe that was the reason that Mr. Jackson had been eyeing him skeptically. 

But maybe it was also the skateboard clipped to his roughed up backpack. 

\------------------------------------------

 

"Ah, you're here." Harry Osborn noticed, putting down his pencil and sketch pad. 

Peter gave an awkward wave. 

"Hello." He said, and then he stuck his hands in his pockets. "Where should I - what should I -" He cleared his throat. "What do you need me to do?" He asked, calmly now and without any nervousness in his voice.

Harry gestured to a raised platform in the middle of the room, next to a rack of garments. 

"Undress and stand next to that. Not on it."

Peter obeyed, taking in his surroundings thoughtfully. The garments up close were seemingly the beginnings of something and not completed, held together by sewing pins. Framed illustrated sketches hung on the walls, and Peter assumed that they were Harry's previous fashion drawings. The high ceiling gave the room a large feeling, despite the cluttered mess of clothing racks, bundles of fabric, tables, sewing supplies, and all sorts of things that seemed to take up space on the ground level. 

Being in just his underwear in front of someone else was a sensation that Peter had slowly gotten used to. And even though it didn't phase him as much as it used to, it still affected him a bit. He could feel the self-conscious blush forming, even though Harry wasn't even looking at him yet. Luckily, though, Peter knew from experience that his blush would go away pretty quickly now; the perks of getting used to semi-nudity, he supposed. He may be embarrassed, but at least he wouldn't look embarrassed in a couple minutes. 

Harry grabbed two spools - were they called spools? - of some type of fabric, scissors, and a box of pins and headed over to where Peter was waiting. Harry stood on the raised platform, setting down his supplies on a little side table that was next to it as he eyed Peter. By standing on the platform, he was able to comfortably reach any angle of Peter without having to stretch. 

"First," He said. "I have to take your measurements." 

"Even though you have them?" Peter asked knowingly, a bit surprised at the charade. 

Harry smiled but didn't acknowledge that he did indeed have them already. He merely kept quiet as he wrapped the measuring ribbon around Peter over and over and then scribbled down the number on a piece of paper. His mannerisms were quick, efficient, and completely professional. Peter felt himself relaxing as the time wore on, his shoulders falling into a less stiff stance and the blush dying down. 

"It's always better to be perfectly accurate." He finally replied, as he finished up with his measuring ribbon. 

"Hold this. And this." Harry Osborn instructed, as he gestured to one of the fabric... bushels? Spools? Yards? As well as a loose piece of fabric against his ribs.

Peter held them both.. 

Harry began draping it around his torso, pursing his lips in concentration and exhaling impatiently as he cut it. He also then took the spool of fabric yardage away from Peter and set it aside for now. He stuck some rudimentary pins in as he arranged the cut fabric in order to help hold it to his satisfaction while he arranged it. Then, he began to seriously maneuver the pins, winding and weaving the fabric around Peter expertly and deftly. 

"You can let go of that." Harry said casually, and Peter glanced at the piece of fabric that he had been holding before letting it drop. It fluttered down, but it was held up to to the other pins. 

Then Harry was back to working in silence. Efficient but awkward and boring silence. 

"Your secretary is kind of intimidating." Peter said, longing to break the ice. 

Harry hummed, glancing up from Peter's torso quickly for a split second. "He used to be my bodyguard when I was a kid and my dad thought I'd take over the family business." He paused to focus on placing a pin somewhere. "He's still a bit protective, especially with new people." 

"Your elevator has someone to push the buttons for you." 

"Are you going to list all the employees in my building, Mr. Parker?" Harry asked in exasperation. "Because you forgot yourself, you know."

"I'm not fancy though." Peter rebutted. 

"What the hell is that even supposed to mean?" Harry muttered, adjusting another pin. 

"You're just... really fancy." Peter shrugged, and Harry hissed sharply in warning at the motion. So he quickly held still again. "It's a bit weird, is all. I bet you have a maid and everything." He mused. 

"Of course I don't have a maid." Harry said. 

"Really? Huh." 

"I have _lots_ of maids, not just one." He smugly answered. 

Peter gave a surprised laugh. 

Harry paused. 

"Oh, sorry." Peter apologized, chagrinned. "Did I move?"

"No, no you're fine." Harry spoke softly, still surprised by Peter's friendly ease. 

"So I bet that you also have a butler." Peter mused after a while. 

"Don't be ridiculous." Harry's lips then curled upwards in a grin. "I have a manservant." 

"A manservant?" Peter laughed again, and it wasn't mocking or mean - just amused. "And _I'm_ ridiculous?" 

"You are. Or at least your unibrow is." Harry shot back. 

Peter's jaw hung open in offense. "I do _not_ have a unibrow! I'm a model - a supermodel!" Peter was indignant and taken aback by the remark, but he was clearly still in good humor. "I get them waxed and everything! You - you take that back! You jerkface!" 

Harry bent his head to focus on the lower pins, hiding his giddy happiness from the model. It was stupid to het so excited over some friendly teasing, he told himself. And yet - 

And yet Harry's heart felt lighter than it had in a long, long time. 

"Jerkface? What, are you seven or something?" Harry easily snarked. "Dork." 

"But I'm a dork with _two_ eyebrows. Not unibrowed! I'm bi-browed. C'mon, Harry, admit it. You're just jealous of my bi-brows." He wiggled said eyebrows teasingly. 

And then when Peter made him laugh, he found himself surprised and startled by the sound. 

But what was _even more startling_ was when Peter laughed along with him, tipping his head back in delight. As if they were friends and not begrudgingly acquainted. 

When Harry finished what he need for the top, he found himself slowing down on the bottom half and the jacket. It was, he denied fiercely to himself, an attempt to prolong this easy fellowship. It was merely him taking his time to being particular and perfect. 

But, yet, Harry found himself smothering smiles into his shoulder to hide them from Peter's friendly eyes, time and time again. 

"You know," Harry drawled in amusement. "That you can't wear boxers with this skirt, right?"

Peter's face lit up red. And then his torso did as well. "I am not walking the runway while going _commando._ " He hissed angrily. 

Harry laughed again, the sound bright and loud. And, really, why did this kid make it so easy to laugh? 

"You don't have to." He assured him, mirth still in his voice. "Just wear briefs to the next fitting please." 

Peter let out an embarrassed "Ah. That's what you meant. I see." 

Harry couldn't resist teasing him just a little more. "And Peter?"

"Hmm?"

"Be prepared to wear briefs on runway day, or I _will_ make you go commando." 

Peter's entire body turned crimson. 

And Harry Osborn laughed. Yet again. 

\-----------------------------------------

As Harry put his supplies away, Peter stretched languidly, groaning a bit for show at the soreness of a long session holding still. 

"Come back in a week, same time, for the next fitting." Harry instructed him. "I'll have the pieces constructed by then, and it'll just be alterations." 

"Is that the last fitting then? Next week?" He asked curiously. 

"No. We have also next week. And then after that, we have makeup and runway rehearsals. And then I'd like to squeeze in one last fitting before the actual show for any last minute changes or adjustments."

Peter nodded. "Okay. Sounds good." He waved. "I'll see you next week, then?" He smiled and turned to go. 

"Oh!" Peter turned back around. "Schedule a day with Felicia to have your nails painted. She'll direct you to our private nail artist and tell you how to proceed." 

"Any day? Or is there a timeframe?"

Harry waved a dismissive hand. "As long as you don't bite your nails, a few days at most beforehand. If you do, then the day before." 

"Gotcha." He said, nodding affirmatively. 

"And Peter?"

"Hmm?" He turned back around again. 

"Thank you." He said, looking embarrassed. "I'll see you next week." 

Peter grinned. "Yeah. Bye, Harry." 

As the door closed, Harry Osborn also grinned, his lips quirking up fondly. 

"Bye, Peter." He muttered, lifting a hand to an already empty room - a goodbye wave to someone that was already gone. 

His open palm closed into a fist and fell back down. 

What was he doing? What was he _thinking?_

That Peter Parker and him could magically be - what? Friends? The thought made Harry Osborn sneer. 

The thought also made his heart beat longingly in his chest, even though it was so, so stupid. He wasn't lonely. He _wasn't._

And he didn't need friends. He didn't _want_ any friends anyways. 

_Especially_ not Peter Parker. 

And yet. Harry frowned. And yet it felt like a lie, even to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Amazing Spiderman (1999) Volume 1 Universe 680, both Spiderman and Johnny Storm go to space together. That's what the Peter and Johnny have been to space reference was. 
> 
> (I've never read it, but I've also read a lot of fics where there is a reference of them both having been in space.) I just wanted to throw that in this chapter because I like the idea of them having been in space at the same time.)


	7. "Go With The Flow"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things happen. 
> 
> (Including Peter's runway debut.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning: Transphobia in this chapter**  
>   
> 
> Transphobic media discussions about a character who comes out. Proceed with that in mind.

"Hey." Peter said as he stepped into the increasingly familiar room.

Harry Osborn looked up. 

"You're early." He said in surprise. 

"Ah, sorry?" Peter shrugged. 

"No, that's fine." Harry hastened to add, looking down again. 

Peter glanced at him before going ahead and taking his clothes off, as per the usual routine. 

"Is that - is that skirt for me?" Peger asked, eyes locked on to a hanger on a clothing rack while he folded his jeans. 

Harry walked over. 

"Yes." Harry affirmed, plucking it from the rack. "What do you think?"

Peter tilted his head to the side, considering it. 

"I'm not really a fashion person..." He said slowly. "But that looks really pretty. And like it took a lot of time to make. Last time I was here, it wasn't even close to looking like this." 

Harry didn't smile, but he appeared to be pleased. "Good. Try it on." 

Peter held his hands out and then took the skirt. He pulled the white material over his legs and up to his waist. He fastened the delicate buttons very, very carefully. He dropped his hands and turned to face Harry. 

"Well?" He asked with a smile, swaying the skirt softly so that it gently hit just above his knees. "What do you think?" 

Harry was silent. And then he sighed, a relieved sigh, one hand pressed over his chest. 

"It fits so well!" He said breathlessly. "Okay, okay, can you raise it higher - so it sits above your hips and not on them? Perfect! Perfect..." 

Harry grinned, the biggest smile Peter had seen him with. 

"I was worried about the fit, but it's perfect, Peter." 

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and then reopened them. "All right. Now, let's try the mockup I have for the top. I'm indecisive between whether this print matches better with a lavender blazer or _this_ print. I might actually use both prints..." 

"Sounds exciting." Peter replied, and Harry paused. 

"So." Peter said when Harry didn't say anything after that. "Lavender and white? That's cute." 

Harry handed him the muslin version of the shirt - the first physical draft, so to speak. 

"Well," He said as Peter sliped it on over his shoulders. Harry walked around and zipped his back up. "The print on the shirt will have some color."

"Oh, really? Like - the same color, or a new color?" Peter asked. 

Harry began rearranging the pins to suit the fit more. 

"It depends." He admitted. "Like I said, I'm torn between the two fabrics." 

Peter hummed. "I'm sure it'll turn out great, whichever one you choose. It looks fantastic already. Seriously, Harry." 

Harry's hands stilled for a moment and then quickly resumed. 

"Do you think so?" He asked nonchalantly. "I mean, it's not very avant garde..."

"Does it have to be?" Peter asked. "Can't you do whatever you want? Isn't that the point of fashion?"

Harry hadn't thought of it that way. 

"Of course." He said, feigning arrogance, as hope began to blossom in his heart again. "I always do what I want, after all."

Peter laughed. 

"Always?" He asked innocently. 

"Always." Harry confirmed.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

"Hey," Harry casually called out in greeting as soon as Peter had opened the door. 

"Hey." Peter waved at him. "How are you doing, Harry?" 

He blinked at that in surprise. "Me? Oh, I'm - I'm fine." Harry quicky regained his composure. "How are you doing?" He asked politely, sounding more formal. 

"Ehhhh." Peter responded with a wavy hand motion in the air. "I forgot to eat breakfast and lunch, and I wasn't hungry, but now I'm suddenly _really_ hungry, you know? I'm thinking about going and getting tacos after this. You wanna come?"

Harry froze. "I. Yeah. Sure." He coughed. "That sounds fine."

"Cool." Peter said as he stripped off his shirt. "So, what print did you decide for the top? Or did you use both prints?" 

Harry looked astounded. "You... remember that?" 

Peter paused at his odd tone, his pants halfway down his legs, before continuing. "Yeah, I remember that. Was I - not supposed to?"

"No - no that's not -" Harry cut himself off, unsure how to explain that people didn't really bother listening to him, unless they were paid to like reporters or secretaries. 

Harry took a deep breath and then said calmly, "I used both prints. I used the gingham to line the blazer and the striped to construct the shirt." 

"Sounds really cool." Peter replied earnestly, and Harry smiled. 

"It is. Here, let me get it. "

 

\-------------------------------------------

"No!" Harry gasped, scandalized. "And what did you guys do then?" He leaned forward, his food long forgotten. 

"So we were _this_ close to being caught," Peter gestured with both hands, one still holding a burrito. "We were all trapped in the supply closet together, in various states of nudity. Johnny's elbow was in my ribs, MJ's chin was on my head, and we were all just squished in there. And that's when Mary Jane's phone started to play that one Rick Astley song. It's her ringtone."

"Seriously?" Harry asked, laughing. 

"Seriously!" Peter laughed, nodding. "We're all like, 'This is it! We're all going to be caught,' and it's so ironic because all that we can hear is 'Never gonna give you up." 

"Oh my gosh." 

"Yup." Peter took a bite out of his burrito. 

"And that's the whole story?" Harry asked, sounding almost sad that it was over. 

"Yeah that's - that's the story of how a bunch of people think that Johnny, MJ, and I had a secret illicit threesome in some teeny tiny supply closet on the set of Vanity Fair." 

"How does that - " Harry broke himself off, shaking his head. 

"I know," Peter moaned. "How is that my life?" He let out a breath. "So, yeah, that's definitely by far the worst wardrobe malfunction story that I've expereinced. So far." Peter pulled a face at his own words. 

Harry laughed softly. 

 

\-------------------------------------------

"Peter." Johnny grinned. "Guess who's going to be on the front of _Time_ magazine next week?" 

Peter's eyes widened. "Shut up! Squirrel Girl? Seriously?" 

Johnny laughed. "Pete, seriously." 

"I don't know about you," Peter wagged a finger in his friend's face. "But I am one hundred percent serious." 

"Yes, Squirrel Girl, you're totally right." Johnny said nonchalantly. 

"Oh," Peter shrugged, aloof, "For a second there I though that you were going to say _you_ \- "

"You're such a brat!" Johnny shrieked just as Peter started laughing. "Ugh." He grumbled, and yet a wide smirk betrayed his amusement. "Why do I even talk to you?" He asked in a groan. 

Peter flashed him a charming smile. "My devilishly good looks?" 

"Nah." Johnny dismissed teasingly. 

"My charming personality?"

"That's not it..." 

"My witty sense of humor?" Peter smirked. 

"Absolutely not." Johnny grinned. 

"Well, then it _has_ to be because of my rippling muscles." 

"I did write a limerick about those." Johnny mused to himself, and Peter couldn't keep up the charade any longer; he broke out into laughter. 

"So." Peter said after a moment. " _Time_ magazine, huh?" 

Johnny smile turned sheepish. "Yeah." He shrugged. "I figured that..." He leveled an even look at Peter. "...it was about time." 

"You are such a dork. I can't even talk to you anymore." 

"Really?" Johnny asked, eyebrows raised. "You are calling me a dork. _You._ Are calling _me_. A dork. _You._."

"Yes me!" Peter replied with a roll of his eyes.

 

\--------------------------------------------

The magazine came out on a day that Peter had to work. He saw it on his way to a photo shoot, already running late, but he couldn't help but notice it.

And then he couldn't help but to stop and stare at it. 

"Johnny Storm: The Hot Topic" 

The headline read above Johnny's smiling face on the cover of TIME magazine. 

And underneath, in smaller letters, it read, "Human Torch Comes Out As Transgender!"

Peter simply stared at the cover, his heart racing, a wide smile on his face. 

"Oh, Johnny." He said proudly. 

When he snapped out of his proud daze, he bought the magazine and immdeiately read it while he was being prepped by makeup and hair for the photo shoot. 

It was just - so wonderful, and Peter had to go, but he quickly sent the thumbs up emoji to Johnny. Three whole lines of the thumbs up emoji. And also a whole line of the heart-eyed emoji. 

When Peter was able to check his phone after the photo shoot, Johnny bad responded with the heart-eyed emoji, the thumbs up, and the one smiley that was grinning. 

Peter smiled and called Johnny, relieved that he now had the time. 

"I'm assuming you saw the magazine?" Johnny answered immediately. 

"Saw it?" Peter said. "I read it and loved it, and how could you not tell me that you were coming out?" 

Johnny laughed. "It was a surprise?" He said. "I don't know. I wasn't sure if I was going to go through with it. And then, by the time that I knew, I kinda ... Wait. What did think I was going on the cover of Time magazine for?" He asked suddenly.

Peter hesitated. "Well. You _are_ the Human Torch..."

Johnny burst into great guffawing laughter. 

 

\------------------------------------------

"Johnny Storm remains private about his privates!" 

"Uh oh." Peter said as he clicked on the online article with a feeling of dread wasking over him. 

_"When we asked Johnny Storm about whether he has a vagina or a penis, he told us that it was "none of our business." Well, there was an expletive also thrown in there, but you get the idea. When we tried to ask 'why all the secrecy?' Johnny Storm became even more irate. For such a simple question, he kept refusing to answer. It kind of makes you curious. What does he have to hide?"_

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and then took a deep breath. He calmly closed the article without reading another word. 

 

\------------------------------------------

 

"Johnny Storm just can't stay out of the news!" A reporter said on the television as Peter blearily sat down at his breakfast table. 

"Last night, he was arrested and posted bail." 

Peter's eyes widened, and he scrambled for his phone, but he was wearing his pajamas, which didn't have a pocket. 

"Johnny Storm was arrested for punching a man in the face. The man claims that the assault was unprovoked. There is no word from Johnny Storm, but witnesses say that it has to do with his coming out. Witnesses say that the man had been harrassing Johnny Storm throughout the night about being transgender. It's not too far of a stretch to imagine the hot-headed Johnny Storm finally snapping and punching the man after a night of constant harrassment."

The woman appeared surprised for a moment as she held a hand to her head, listening to her earpiece. 

"This just in: all charges against Johnny Storm have been dropped. Johnny Storm will be filing for a counterclaim against his harrasser. No word on why as to the sudden dropping of these charges."

\-----------------------------------------

"Johnny." Peter said softly, both hands clutching his cell phone to one ear. "It's Peter. Call me back. I'm worried about you. Can you - just - please? Call me back. Um. Maybe you didn't get my other messages? But yeah. So..." 

Peter inhaled and then changed his mind suddenly. "You know what." He said abruptly. "I'm coming over. So you either have to call me back and tell me not to or deal with me showing up at the Baxter Tower." 

\------------------------------------------

"Hey." Peter said, peeling off his Spiderman mask as he dropped off the ceiling and on to the floor. 

Johnny's mouth dropped open and he kept moving it soundlessly without actually saying anything for a while. 

"So," Peter decided to continue on and ignore Johnny's surprise. "How have you been?"

That prompted an actual verbal response. "How - how have I _been_?" Johnny gaped. "How do you _think_ I've been, Pete?"

"Well, gee, if you'd call me back, maybe then I would know." Peter snapped back. And then he sighed. "Sorry." He said, as he rubbed his neck guiltily. "I didn't come here to yell at you. I just... want to know if you're okay." 

Johnny stared at him for a moment without saying anything. And then he sighed, sitting back down on his bed with a slump of his shoulders and a tired smile. 

"I'm okay." He said quietly, and when Peter's face twisted in confusion, he added, "No, really! I am!" He stared down at his hands. "I'm okay. I just... thought that I wouldn't be affected by any negativity - that I could handle anything that any asshole could throw my way - but it's... it's harder than I thought. And I just - I wasn't prepared for it to be _this_ hard. I thought I'd be strong enough to handle anything, and I'm - not." 

Peter sat down next to Johnny carefully. "Just because," He said slowly, trying to find the right way to phrase this, "You are hurt by the things that assholes say or do, doesn't mean that you aren't strong. It just means... that you're human."

Johnny lifted his head and looked at Peter. 

"It's... " Peter gestured vaguely. "Probably just coming as a surprise to you because you're the _great Johnny Storm_ and _the wonderul Human Torch_ but really. You're only human like the rest of us. It's okay to be upset and hurt by these things that people say deliberately in an attempt to upset and hurt you." 

Johnny knocked his shoulder into Peter's lightly. "Do you really have to tease me while you're comforting me?" He asked, but his lips were pulling up slightly into a smile. 

"You know it, Flame-Brain." Peter knocked his knee against Johnny's in retaliation. 

Johnny snickered for a moment and then sighed. "Yeah. You're right, I guess. It's just hard. I thought Sue was bad before, but... maybe... maybe she never actually was -"

"Hey." Peter interrupted sternly. "Just because these people are really terrible doesn't validate your sister's past behavior. Sure, it wasn't as bad as theirs is now, but it still was upsetting to you, and maybe it was more so because it was from her - someone you had hoped would never treat you like that." 

Johnny nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sorry. My head's just in a weird place. I thought coming out would make me a lot happier but so far it's been pretty terrible." 

Peter nodded but didn't know quite what to say to that. 

There was silence. 

"Okay... But why did you ignore my calls?" 

"Ah." Johnny gave a laugh, the sound guilty and sad instead of cheerful. "Yeah. That was my bad." 

Johnny laid down, reclining himself on the bed with his legs still planted over the edge and on the floor. 

Peter flopped backward to lay his torso down on the mattress as well. 

"I'm not really mad." Peter said to the ceiling. "I was just really concerned, and I wanted to be there for you."

"Mmm." Johnny propped his head up on his elbow and turned to face Peter. "Yeah. I appreciate that. I just... thought I needed space. And maybe in the beginning I did, but I'm glad that you came over. I needed that, and I didn't realize it until you did it." 

Peter smiled. "You're my friend." He said simply and honestly. 

Johnny laughed. He laid back down on the bed, tucking his hands behind his head like a pillow. "I'm glad." He replied warmly. 

"Besides," Peter said nonchalantly after a quiet minute. "I couldn't leave my fellow clubmember alone when they needed the Gender Defender club the most." 

Johnny's cheerful laughter filled the room, and it was beautiful. 

 

\-------------------------------------------

"Hey." Peter said as he entered Harry's studio. 

Harry didn't respond immediately. 

"Oh. Hey." He said quietly after a moment. 

The rest of the fitting was filled with that same quiet subduedness. Even when Peter tried to instill conversation, it slowly dithered down back to silence. 

He wondered how to ask Harry what was going on, how to approach the topic of Harry's obvious not-okayness without upsetting him. 

Peter dressed himself back into his regular clothes. 

And then suddenly Harry himself broke the silence, suddenly clinging on to Peter's shirt with trembling hands that twisted into the material to steady themselves.

"I can't do it, Peter." Harry looked up at him with wide, panicked eyes. "I can't do it. I thought I could, but I _can't_ do it. I don't know why, but I just ... can't." His fingers tightened their hold in Peter's t-shirt. "I'm so sorry. I know that this - it must seem like I tricked you. But I swear - _I swear_ \- I wanted to come out today. But now....I don't. I can't do it. Look at the way they treated Johnny Storm; I can't handle that. I'm so sorry."

Peter sadly, awkwardly patted the hands that were gripping his shirt as he began to understand what was happening here. "It's... okay. No one should have to come out before they're ready. I understand." 

"But now," Harry's voice broke and he paused before continuing. "But now, everyone is just going to think that the collection is trying to be edgy and different, instead of sending a message. And you're going to think that too!" 

"Harry, trust me." Peter assured him. "It's going to be all right. I don't think that at all; I believe you." 

Those words seemed to be exactly what Harry needed to hear. He let out a wet sounding sniffle, but he managed to pull himself together. 

"You okay?" Peter asked gently. 

"I'm fine." Harry cleared his throat. "Thank you." 

\---------------------------------------------

On the day that Harry was to present his collection, Peter met with some of the reporters that had consisently been asking him for interviews. He met with them infront of a crowd, at miniture press conference, so that his words would be heard by more than the media, so that the media couldn't deny it or hide it.

"This collection," Peter said into the microphone. "Isn't a men's collection. It's a collection that intentionally disregards binary gender. People keep asking me - why this collection? Why Harry Osborn?" Peter paused to look at the captivated crowd. 

"It's because Harry Osborn's collection allowed me to walk as who I am - a nonbinary person. This collection means a lot to me because my pronouns _are_ he/him like I've been saying. But my pronouns don't reflect a masculine, male gender. And they don't reflect a feminine gender. They just... are because I just am. And the name of this collection - 'They' - is named for people who are nonbinary. So, as you can see, that's why _this_ is my debut on the runway. And also, it's my own personal debut as openly nonbinary. Thank you."

\-------------------------------------------

That night, Harry Osborn's hands were steady as he zipped up Peter's cream and mint striped shirt. He adjusted Peter's white skirt and lavender blazer four times until he was satisfied. 

He nodding approvingly at Peter's peachy cheeks and reddened lips. He had the makeup artist smudge his eyeliner against the tan eyeshadow more, to make it smokier. And then he was satisified with that too. 

He took a step back from Peter and stared at his curly hair, his glowing face, his preppy work-casual outfit, his lavender wedges with attached ribbon winding around his calves. 

He nodded his head. 

"Okay." He breathed and then moved on to help the women models that were dressed in 'male' clothing. 

Peter's heart was racing, and he resisting clenching his hands into the material of his skirt in his nervousness. Instead, he clenched and unclenched his hands, his lavender tipped fingers nails disappearing in repetition. 

"I can do this." He breathed. 

He mentally braced himself for the bright lights and the noise and the people staring at him. 

"I can do this." He slowly breathed out again. 

 

\------------------------------------------

After the show, he put his blazer back on and walked straight pass the line of clamoring reporters. He approached the most important person in the room, grateful for her soothing, supporting presence. 

His kiss left a bright red lip print on Aunt May's cheek. She smiled gently at him, fishing around in her purse for her handkerchief to rub it off with casual, familiar ease. 

\----------------------------------------------

"Peter! Peter!" 

He turned towards Mary Jane's voice that seemed to rise above the crowd. He scanned the area quickly but it took a long moment to find her shockingly bright red hair. 

"MJ!" Peter smiled, relieved, and made his way over to her. 

He was thrown off guard as she rushed at him and threw her arms around him in a huge hug. 

"Whoa!" Peter said, laughing, as he found his footing and hugged her back. 

She released him and took a step back to look at him. 

"Oh my gosh, Peter, you look so pretty!" MJ gushed excitedly. 

"Thanks, Mary Jane." Peter grinned, a blush high on his cheeks. 

"Pete!" Johnny wrapped his arm around Peter's shoulder jovially. "We both came together to cheer you on! But MJ totally deserted me once she spotted you afterwards!" 

Peter's smile was so wide that it was beginning to hurt. "Oh my gosh. You guys." 

"So, how was your debut?" MJ asked. "Was it worth all the secrecy and the gossip?"

"Yeah." Peter said softly, and then spoke up to be heard over all the clamor of fashion week's after party. "Yeah." 

Johnny laughed, ruffling Peter's hair with one hand as he did so. And then he guided Peter and Mary Jane both into a group hug. 

Peter wrapped his arms around his friends, taking in their warmth, and he laughed too. 

\-------------------------------------------

"Can you tell us why Harry Osborn named the collection for you?"

"He didn't. Um, the collection isn't actually named after me. It's the name of the concept he had. I never actually told Harry that I was nonbinary." 

"Can you tell us what changes we can expect from you in the industry - now that you've come out about your gender?"

"Um, I don't really know." Peter shrugged. "I'm not a girl, so I hope that people don't just assume that because of what I'm wearing today means that I prefer wearing dresses. It all depends. I don't _mind_ wearing dresses. But I like pants better. I'm also not a boy, by the way. I just... am. And I still use the pronoun 'he' I'm not sure if I'll ever change to 'they'; I don't think that I probably will. For now, I'm comfortable enough with that pronoun. I just don't like being outright labeled as a man or a woman." Peter paused for a breath, but the interviewer urged him on. 

"Um, the biggest change? Is that I hope people stop calling me a male model. Please just call me a model. If you _have_ to include a gender, please call me a nonbinary model. Please."

\------------------------------------------

Peter received an offer to model woman's ware clothing. He debated it. He didn't want to just suddenly be known for only modeling "feminine" clothes. He also was nervous about if people were viewing him as someone who only wanted to wear those types of clothes, when that wasn't true. He wanted to keep it diverse in his professional portfolio. Which, that was a statement he never once would have thought he would now be thinking. 

Even though he felt uncertain, he called back and asked what the creative director had envisioned for the photo shoot. Talking to the director made him feel more at ease. And so he accepted the job offer, which actually turned into _quite_ the experiemce. 

\--------------------------------------------

"Everyone is talking about the latest gossip - and there is a lot of  
it! - and, still, your advertisement for Barnes & Noble also has everyone talking." The daytime television host said to Peter. 

"Yeah," Peter nodded. "It's pretty, uh, eye-catching. The flames really stand out - colorwise - against the white background, which helps." 

The host nodded. "I agree - the flames are definitely what is causing people to take notice. You are literally on fire, and it's a very cool ad, almost like a poster for a movie."

"Thank you." Peter said.

"I mean, even though you're wearing women's clothing," He said. "You don't look feminine at all. You look like you're going to kick some serious ass." 

Peter smiled awkwardly. "I don't think that being feminine and kicking ass are mutually exclusive. I mean - you _have_ heard of the Black Widow, right?" 

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply that she wasn't kick ass." He tactfully looked chastised. 

"Um, in a way, it's easier to be in those sort of clothes and look like - like a movie character or something." Peter continued, hands gesturing a bit in the air. "When you're wearing a dress made up of half-burnt newspapers, it looks so much more like you've just come from Fahrenheit 451."

"A suit though!" The host tried to convince him. "That's rather James Bond, isn't it?" 

"Or Doctor Who, yeah, I suppose." Peter mused.

"Now, I heard - something the audience may not know - I heard that those flames aren't photoshopped. That they are, in fact, real flames."

"Yeah, yeah." Peter nodded, and the audience gasped. "Towards the end of the photo shoot, they said to me, 'How comfortable are you with the thought of us lighting you on fire?'" Peter made a face, flickering his eyes back and forth as if in disbelief. "But, no, I said yes. And - this is what's cool - they actually let me have Johnny do it. I trusted him more than the strangers that I had literally just met that morning. So I called Johnny and asked him if he would do it."

"Johnny. Your friend Johnny Storm, right? What was his response?"

"Oh." Peter flopped his hand dismissively. "He was there in under three minutes. He even still had shampoo in his hair. Clearly," Peter smirked, amused, "it was like a dream come true for him." 

"So the pictures of your garment - "

"My dress, yeah."

"...Your dress... going up in flames _while you were wearing it_ was real?" The host verified. 

"One hundred percent. I took the last about twenty frames like that." 

"Were you afraid at all?" The host pressed. "No? Not even the slightest bit?"

"Um. I mean, not really? More afraid of what my Aunt was going to say when she found out, to be honest."

\--------------------------------------------

"Now, did you suspect that Johnny Storm was transgender? Was there anything at all?

"Uh." Peter scratched his arm while he thought how to answer. "Well, I probably suspected that he was transgender when he told me that he was, so..." 

The journalist seemed disappointed. "Yeah, I thought that he was a real guy too until he said so." 

Peter froze. 

"Um. No, that's not - Johnny _is_ a real guy." He said hurriedly, his fingers twisting together anxiously. "And I meant - I meant that he told me. Earlier. Not. Not - " He stared at the reporter and then just sighed. 

"You know what?" Peter said. "Don't print any of this interview. You don't have my permission." 

"What?" The interviewer's eyes widened and jaw fell open. "You just can't!"

"I just can!" Peter shot back and then walked away. 

It felt very satisfying. 

\-------------------------------------------

"I'm really tired of, like, the press and doing interviews." Peter said into the surface of Johnny's duvet cover. 

"Same." He agreed with a groan. 

Johnny's eyes lit up - in excitement and not actual fire. 

"You know what we need?" He asked in a delighted voice. 

"If you say anything about that _one_ time - " Peter said warningly, lifting his head to glare, and Johnny laughed. 

"No, no," He paused. "Well, yes, always _that_ but no. I was actually going to say - we need a vacation!"

"A vacation." 

"Your lack of inflection is either a bad thing or a good thing." Johnny noted Peter's flat tone and then shrugged. "Seriously. You. Me. The Bahamas. Heck, I'll bring Aunt May if you want!" 

Peter cracked a grin at that. "You charmer." He teased. "You know all my weak spots." 

"And don't you forget it." Johnny winked. "No, but, really. C'mon, Pete. Let's go somewhere. Like - Viva Las Vegas or Disney World or outer space." 

"One of those things is not like the other." Peter dryly remarked, biting his lip to prevent himself from laughing. 

"I know," Johnny rolled his eyes. "Las Vegas is _wild._ " 

He looked at Peter with a grin at his stupid joke. 

"Why vacation?" Peter asked him, and Johnny's smile fell. 

"Maybe I just feel like I need to get away for a while." He mumbled, shrugging slightly. 

"Ah." Peter said, and Johnny stared at him. 

"'Ah?'" He asked, sounding scandalized, or at least incredulous. "What do you mean 'ah'?"

Peter waved his hand in the air vaguely. 

"Away from... this, right?" Peter asked knowingly. "I hate to break it to you, but people will still recognize you in Las Vegas." 

"Well nuts." Johnny said quietly, but with a small touch of humor in his voice. "There goes that plan."

"It'll get better." Peter assured him, and Johnny snorted 

"Sure it will. Or just eventually people will forget to keep bugging me about it." 

Peter glanced at him.

"I know what you need and _no it's not Las Vegas,_ " Peter said. 

"Is it at least outer space?" Johhny joked. 

Peter ignored that. "What you need," He decided, "Is to eat some of Aunt May's meatloaf." 

"I... thought..." Johnny tried for a tactful way to say and then just blurted out in confusion, "I thought you hated her meatloaf?"

"I do." Peter replied calmly. "And that's exactly why you need it."

Johnny stared at him dubiously. "If this is revenge for that _one time,_ then -"

"No, seriously!" Peter denied. "If you experience something so terrible, then every other terrible experience is a little _less_ terrible in comparision, in like a terribleness scale."

"And your aunt's meatloaf is more terrible than transphobic assholes?" Johnny asked doubtfully. 

"Johnny. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny." Peter shook his head. "If you don't believe me, why don't you find out for yourself?" 

Johnny squinted at him. 

"You're joking; you have to be joking."

"Am I? Do I?" 

There was silence. 

"So," Johnny sighed. "What kind of flowers should I bring for your aunt, since I'm coming over for dinner and all?" 

Peter excitedly punched the air.

Johnny groaned into his hands, his palms covering his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's the debut! Peter has walked the runway! 
> 
> _And_ both Johnny and Peter have come out publicly about their gender. So it was a pretty eventful chapter, I'd say. 
> 
> Also, sorry about the long update wait. Illness has been flaring up worse than normal, and it's been really hard. Expect slower updates indefinitely.


	8. "Something Better"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's not really a plot in this chapter, just the magic of friendship.
> 
> Also, it's a minor time skip to a couple months later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is just straight up fluff. Surprised? So am I.
> 
> Also, Harry isn't his typically cocky self, but that's because he's pretty unsure of how to procede. He's never tried to have friends before. He's a very uncertain and self-conscious mess when he's not being suave.

"Um, it's Peter. I got your message?" Peter hesitantly said, stepping through the door. 

"Ah, just a second." Harry Osborn responded, voice aloof. 

Peter stood still, clasping his hands together behind his back as he waited. He eyed the oddly empty studio as he compared it to his previous visits. Where once was racks of in progress clothes, there was simply empty space now. It _had_ been a couple months since he had last seem Harry, but still. The difference in the less crowded studio was odd. 

"Hey, where'd all the racks go?" Peter asked. 

"Hmm?" Harry made a confused noise as he turned the corner and entered the room. 

"You know," Peter gestured to where the racks used to be. "The racks." 

"Oh the clothing racks." Harry realized. "They're in storage until the next time I need them. Which," Harry frowned. "Shouldn't be too long now. I'll really be getting started in a few weeks. Right now, I'm just finalizing the design drafts."

"Oh, the drawings?" Peter was interested. "Yours are really neat. Can I come and see them when you're all done, or is there some sort of secrecy thing saying that I can't?" 

Harry didn't respond. He just stared at Peter in soft surprise. 

"You..." He quietly said finally, then shook his head and interrupted himself. "No," He continued in a much more cocky voice, "That sounds fine. I'll let you know." 

"Cool." Peter smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

 

\-----------------------------------------

"So, uh," Peter began nervously as they hadn't said anything for a long while. "You called me because I left something over here?" 

Harry nodded. "I did." He opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved a pair of socks. "You forgot these a while back, and I've been too busy to return them to you." 

Peter accepted them with a funny look on his face. 

"When, exactly, did you say that I left these?" 

Harry shrugged casually. "Must have been the last time that you were here." 

"Ah." Peter said simply. 

"Mm-hmm." Harry agreed awkwardly, not fully looking at Peter. 

"It's strange," Peter blurted suddenly. "Since I've never owned this pair of socks?" He raised an eyebrow slightly. "But if you said that these were mine then..."

Harry stared back at him, wide-eyed and alarmed. "You can't possibly remember _every_ pair of socks that you own, right? Especially if you lost them such a long time ago..." 

Peter smiled awkwardly. "Maybe that's true, but none of my socks are so expensive." 

"Expensive?" Harry scoffed. "Those old things?" 

Peter cocked his head. "Harry," He said, half amused and half curious, "Why am I really here?" 

Peter waited patiently while Harry's face visibly reddened and his eyes grew more alarmed. 

"I don't - I don't know what you're talking about." Harry denied. "Now take your socks and just - get out." 

"Okaaaay." Peter pocketed the pair of socks. "I'll be going then..." Peter motioned towards the door and slowly moved in that direction. "...unless..." He paused. "...there was anything else?" 

There was silence. 

"Do you want to go get lunch?" Harry blurted out in an overly loud, anxious voice. He immediately looked mortified at himself. "Wait, no, that's not - "

"Sure." Peter interrupted hastily. "That sounds fun." 

Harry's shoulders sagged in relief. "Oh." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, of course it does. Why wouldn't it? Anyways, let me just - grab my coat." 

Peter smiled as Harry began to sound more like himself. Maybe ot was bravado, but the fact that Harry was at least trying to sound sure of himself was a comforting distinction to his earlier nervousness. 

 

\--------------------------------------

"So what have you been doing these past few months since I've seen you?" Peter asked. His arms swung pleasantly besides himself as he walked, in swooshing motions. 

Harry didn't respond at first. "Oh, you know," He replied loftily after a moment. "Work always keeps me so busy." 

Peter's eyebrows scrunched together. "Anything besides work?" The designer tensed but didn't answer. "No hobbies? No friends or family? No vacation? Nothing? Just work this whole time?" Peter frowned. His hands stopped swinging at his sides, and he shoved them into his coat pockets. 

"Work keeps me plenty occupied." Harry snapped as he pushed the button for the elevator. "Just because your work schedule is lacking doesn't mean everyone else's is." 

"Yeah, but mine _isn't._ I'm super busy all the time. But I still - do things? Watch tv. Go on the computer. Laugh at stupid memes. Hang out with Gwen, MJ, or Johnny. Go out to dinner with my aunt. None of this is ringing a bell? You don't do anything like this?" 

Harry's chin ducked down into his overly large scarf. He mumbled something into the plaid surface. 

"What?"

"I said," Harry repeated louder, his cheeks flushed, "If I did, then I wouldn't have had to call you and say that you left a pair of socks at my house." 

"Harry," Peter said slowly. "Was this your way of trying to hang out? You know, you could have just called me and asked to hang out?" Harry's cheeks flushed further and he refused to look in Peter's direction. "But," Peter continued softly. "However it happened, I'm happy to hang out with you. Seriously. And in the future, all you have to do is ask, and we'll make plans." 

Harry finally looked at him, still embarrassed but now also hopeful. 

"Granted, I might not always be available to hang out, but that's kinda why people make plans, right? We'll justr work around our schedules." 

"Peter - " Harry stopped abruptly and then tried again. "Thank you. This means a lot to me." 

Peter grinned. "So, should I give you your socks back?" 

Harry groaned. "Oh my gosh. I'm never gonna live this down." 

"No, hey, c'mon. It was kinda sweet, I guess, in a way." 

"Sweet?" Harry asked, lip quirking upwards in amusement. "I'm not sweet, Peter." 

 The elevator door opened.

"What floor, Mr. Osborn?" The bellboy asked politely. 

"Lobby." He answered coolly, but a small smile was still on his face. 

\--------------------------------------

"You should hang out with me tonight." Peter blurted unthinkingly. 

Harry froze, his fork still mid-air. The tomato fell off the prongs, and Harry finally put the fork down on his napkin. 

"Hang out?" Harry asked. "Tonight?"

"Yeah," Peter said, more sure of the impulsive idea now. "It's the biweekly movie night at my house. Johnny ans MJ will be there." 

Harry hesitated. "Johnny Storm and Mary Jane Watson?" He clarified, then took a sip of his water. 

"Yup." Peter nodded. "We're going to be watching Lilo and Stitch." 

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously. 

"You did _not_ just - I will not accept no as an answer, Mr. Osborn!" Peter waggled a finger in Harry's direction. "If you don't know what Lilo and Stitch is, then you _have_ to come over! You haven't lived!" 

Harry pursued his lips thoughtfully. 

"Fine. But... It's... not a horror movie, is it?" He asked, concerned. 

"Well it does have aliens." Peter joked and laughed at the dismayed look on Harry's face. 

"Oh my gosh, Harry," Peter hastened to explain. "It's a Disney movie." 

Harry simultaneously slumped in relief and bristled in his seat. "Right. Of course."

"So?" Peter said. "There will be popcorn." 

"I already said yes, didn't I?" Harry mumbled as he stabbed another tomato. 

"You won't regret it!" Peter assured him cheerfully.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, yeah, we'll see."

 

\-----------------------------------------

It was as Johnny was leaning his weight on his elbows at the edge of Peter's bed and Mary Jane was scrunching a pillow underneath her that Peter. realized the flaw in his planning skills. 

"How angry would you be if I invited someone to our biweekly movie night?" Peter asked nervously, twiddling his thumbs back and forths in an anxious circle. 

"Depends." Johnny shrugged. 

"On?" Peter asked, fearing the response. 

"On who it is." MJ answered, and Peter shut his eyes. 

"Okay, okay, don't freak out," He warned. He opened his eyes again. "But I invited Harry Osborn." 

" _What?_ " Johnny yelped, and he lost the precarious balance he had been maintaining, and he crashed half-off the bed. 

MJ just shook her head slowly. 

"I know what it sounds like - "

"Do you?" Mary Jane interrupted with an arched brow. 

"Like I'm shoving a stranger that you don't know at you, but - "

"Pete," Johnny interrupted solemnly. "That is literally our last concern. It might eventually be a concern, but it's last on the list, understand?" 

"Uhhh," Peter hesitated. "I don't see the problem then? Is it because I didn't give any notice? I just invited him like an hour ago, otherwise I would have told you guys earlier - I promise! Should I have invited him for next time's movie night instead?" 

"Peter," Johnny groaned. "No, actually, MJ, you handle this." 

"Handle _what?_ " Peter asked, bewildered. 

Mary Jane gently grasped both of Peter's hands. 

"Peter," She said softly. "You know that we care about you, _right?_ "

"Yes?" 

"And you know that we love you, _right?_ " 

"Yeaaah? But what - "

"Are you secretly dating Harry Osborn?" She asked bluntly, and both Peter and Johnny started coughing. 

"That's real subtle!" Johnny sputtered. 

"Hey, you could have done it!" MJ rebutted. 

"You guys think I'm dating Harry?" Peter wheezed. "What? Why?" 

"Is that a no?" Johnny asked, sounding hopeful. 

"Yeah, that's a no." Peter confirmed. 

Both MJ and Johnny sighed in relief. 

"Okay, what the _heckaroo_ is going on?" Peter asked incredulously. 

"'Heckaroo'?" Johnny snorted. "Seriously?" 

"Johnny!" Peter shoved him, hard, and he fell off the bed again. MJ snorted delicately. 

"Okay, ouch." Johnny said, climbing back up. "Both my heart and my butt are injured now, thanks, Pete. 

"Also your pride." MJ added too sweetly. 

"People who don't tell me what's going on don't get to use my pillows," Peter said, looking towards Mary Jane pointedly. 

"Fine." She rolled her eyes without moving from her spot on Peter's hand-embroidered throw pillow. "It's just... You've never mentioned being friends with Harry before. So it was a bit supsicious, and sounded like you might have invited Harry because you two were secretly dating. And that this was when you were introducing him to us because now it's serious.... Or something like that." 

"Wait, hold up, this is the conclusion that _both_ of you immediately came to?" Peter gaped. 

Johnny shrugged. "It's not like it'd be hard for someone to fall in love with you."

"Peter!" Aunt May's voice called up. "Your friend is here!" 

"Nobody say anything!" Peter hissed, and both of his friends started cackling. Peter really hated his friends at that moment; they were the _worst_.

\----------------------------------------

"Uh, your Aunt sent me up with popcorn?" Harry said, eyes flickering between Johnny and Mary Jane before landing on Peter. 

"Great!" Peter said enthusiastically. "Here, let me take some bags from you." 

Harry awkwardly shuffled the bags around and handled a couple over. 

"How much popcorn do we even need anyways?" He asked incredulously. 

"Have you ever seen Peter eat?" Mary Jane asked, and Harry's head immediately swiveled sharply to look at her. 

"Yeah." Harry said, sounding defensive. "Why?"

"That's why." She responded simply, lifting her eyebrows pointedly. 

Harry opened his mouth but didn't say anything and then just closed his mouth again. 

"Are you ready for the movie?" Peter asked Harry, smiling widely. 

"I guess." Harry shrugged, sitting himself down delicately on the hardwood floor.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Johnny protested. "What are you doing?" 

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing?" Harry responsed, snappily, and then he paused. "I'm sitting down." He said, this time sounding calmer. 

"Okay yeah, but why are you on the floor?" Johnny asked, eyebrows furrowed. "There's plenty of room on the bed."

Harry looked at the full sized mattress that already had two people on it. "You've got to be kidding me." He droned in disbelief. 

"Unless you'd rather sit on the floor. Johnny shrugged. "MJ, budge over. Peter and Harry both still have to fit." 

"Then move your smelly feet," She responded, shoving his knees; his feet - dangling up in the air - swing to the side. 

"Hey!" He protested, laughing, as he scrambled up off of his stomach. "Uncool and uncalled for." 

"Yeah yeah." MJ smirked. 

"All right, people, we are good to go!" Peter declared, standing up from the dvd player and grinning. 

He grabbed his popcorn bags and sat down on the bed between Johnny and Mary Jane. 

"You coming up, Harry?" Peter asked, motioning to the tiniest bit of surface left available besides him. 

Harry eyed it and then sighed. 

"Yeah, sure, whatever." He stood up, gathering his own popcorn bags. 

"That's the spirit!" Johnny hollered approvingly. 

"Hand me a bag, yeah?" MJ asked, grinning, as Harry awkwardly sat down. 

His thighs touched both Peter and Mary Jane. His elbow bumped into Peter as he moved to give Mary Jane the bag of popcorn. 

"You want a pillow?" She offered, gesturing to her mounds of pillows between her and the wall. "Peter has a ton of extra pillows because he likes to hand embroider them." 

"Mary Jane!" Peter protested, looking embarrassed. 

"What?" She asked, shrugging. "It's cool as shit, don't be so embarrassed about it. Here, Harry, you can use, 'Home Is Where New York Is'." 

"No way," Johnny said, souding impressed. "Is that one new?" 

Peter nodded wordlessly as Harry took the pillow. 

Harry glanced at it - the sewn skyscapers in an outline of New York's skyline, the night sky, the stars, the flowing cursive words - and he smiled. "Cute," He admitted, as he shoved it gently to reat behind his back between him and the wall. 

"No fair," Johnny complained. "I wanted to see it too! I'll trade you for 'Anything Is Possible'! I mean this one's cool too, but I've seen this one already, and you haven't." 

"O-kay then!" Peter said loudly. "I'm starting the movie now!" He quickly pressed play and tossed the dvd player remote to the ground, where it clattered. 

"Here." MJ threw a pillow at Peter's face. Peter pulled it back and then smiled. 

"Home is whenever I'm with you" pretty aptly described what he was feeling at that moment. 

He leaned on his pillow and settled in for the movie. 

"No talking now!" Peter warned, looking at Johnny. "Harry's never seen this." 

Johnny looked torn between being offended for himself being called out or on behalf of Harry never have seeing the movie before. 

"You'll like it." MJ promised, popping a few pieces of popcorn in her mouth. 

Harry, squished between people on a bed that was too small for four people, smiled. "Yeah," He agreed softly. "I have I feeling that I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thanks to everyone who is reading this; I appreciate your continued love and support! I know the update took forever. My pals, thank you for reading. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this surprisingly fluffy chapter


End file.
